


We Only Own Our Hell (You Don't Know Me That Well)

by trueamericanwolf



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Fingering, Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, handjobs, homophobic violence, jerking off, terry milkovich is the worst father ever theres nothing redeeming about him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueamericanwolf/pseuds/trueamericanwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian meet when they both ditch class, only they just smoke weed and talk, but Mickey can't seem to get Ian out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the start to a friendship?

**Author's Note:**

> so this is unedited and sorry in advance if there are a shit ton of mistakes. i dont know how long im planning this but i just want to write mickey/ian all the days of my life!

Mickey’s arm is out in front of him, gripping the tile wall as the warm water pounds on his head. His grip is tight as he tugs at himself, letting out moans, because he can with the shower loud enough to drown it out. His hand is all lubed up with soap and it feels fucking great; he bites his lower lip and tenses up as he comes, standing on his tip toes, grip tightening and slowing down as he jerks forward, letting out a groan.

He lets his head fall back, opening his mouth and spitting the water out as his hand drops to his side, his hard on already going back down. He needed that. Fuck. After the week he had, having to beat some fucking shit head who kept trying to get at Mandy, and from having to dodge around his drunk dad, who also tried to get at Mandy.

Fucking sick bastard. He always mistakes Mandy for their mom, who died years ago, whenever he’s drunk. Good thing Mandy knows well enough to tell him to drink some more, that way he can pass out and not go any further, because if anything did escalate, well Mickey would have no qualms with killing his father.

People in the neighborhood all say that Frank Gallagher is the worst father but if they actually were in his house with his dad, well they would change that around real quick. Difference is, his dad isn’t drunk 24 fucking 7 and isn’t substituting anything for his liquor, unlike Frank. Fuck, Mickey walked in on Frank blowing a dude once for a dime of coke.

Frank Gallagher is a fucking mess. But Mickey’s dad, he’s the worst father.

“Don’t be such a fucking pansy,” his dad would tell him when he was 5 years old. “Oh, you scraped your knee? Well only faggots cry.”

Mickey learned quickly not to cry in front of his dad, and when he started getting these weird feelings when he would see guys shirtless, or watch a porn and end up staring at the guy, well he would tell himself over and over again that he’s not gay, can’t be gay. Terry wouldn’t accept it, and probably kill Mickey.

So, he jerks off.

Besides the fact that it feels fucking great, it calms him down. He tries not to think about anything while he does it, tries to solely focus on that feeling at the end and how all his tension will leave, but if he sometimes thinks about men, well that’s okay. As long as he never acts on it, admits it, or makes it remotely known.

Which is why he sleeps around. A lot.

Mostly, he’s drunk when he does it. Because, even though he can get hard and fuck a girl, he likes it better when he’s intoxicated. Makes it a little easier.

He has a reputation of being a real ladies man. But really, he just fucks some girls here and there, never calls them, never commits to a serious relationship. Although, in this neighborhood, that’s what it means to be a man. Be a drunk who sleeps around. Award winning block.

Mickey grabs the soap and scrubs himself down, almost going for a round two as his hands work around his cock, gripping his balls and moving the soap slowly over, already feeling himself getting hard again.

“Hey shit brain!” Mandy yells, banging on the door. “Some of us have to use the bathroom too!”

And there goes his hard on, in the drain like the water.

He hops out of the shower, grabbing his towel and drying himself off, walking out with it tied around his waist.

“It’s all your’s, bitch,” he says, laughing as he dodges Mandy’s fist’s coming straight for him. “Easy, easy! You might make my towel fall!”

“So?” Mandy says, leaning on the doorframe, “and then what? We’d need a magnifying glass to see anything.”

Mickey sticks up his middle finger and walks away, hearing the bathroom door close behind her. He walks into his room, shuts the door and pulls off his towel, letting the rest of him air dry as he grabs some boxers on the floor. He gives them a sniff and they don’t smell bad, so they’re okay to wear. Grabbing a pair of socks off the top of his dresser, he puts them on, feeling his big toe sticking out of one of them.

He slips on his baggy blue jeans and his favorite shirt that says “It ‘aint gonna suck itself” with an arrow pointing down. But, he has to cover it with a coat. His plan for today is to skip school, go hang out behind the bleachers, get high and be left alone.

As much as he loves beating the shit out of anyone who fucks with Mandy, and is okay with his reputation of no one fucks with him, he does like to be alone. Not like he writes some stupid ass poetry and reflects on anything, but the quiet and relaxation is nice. Plus, if he actually showed up to class, his teachers might have a heart attack.

He’s failing all his classes.

Mickey grabs a scarf and wraps it around him. One cool thing about living in chicago is that you can wear a scarf and not be called a fag. If he lived in California it would be another story; but here, it’s okay because it’s winter and cold as fuck.

His dad is sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl in front of him filled with cereal and he’s grumbling to himself. Mickey avoids talking with him and slips out the front door, feeling the crisp air make his cheeks flush and his nose already feel like an icicle.

Mickey shoves his hands into his pocket and starts walking; it hasn’t snowed yet, but it’s only October, so it’s just the start. He can see his breath out in front of him and he picks up his pace because walking faster will warm him up.

About a block away from the school he can hear the bell ring for classes to start. He walks around to the back of the school, hops the fence and rushes across the field, dipping in between the bars underneath the bleachers and going to his usual spot.

His pipe is underneath some rocks that he has hidden by the corner. No one ever comes here. Mickey pulls his lighter out of his pocket and grabs his pipe, clearing it to make sure it’s good to go.

He pulls out his baggie of weed that he keeps in his jacket pocket, on the inside. Picking out the stems and filling his bowl to the top, he sits down and smirks as he takes the first hit.

There’s a way he likes to smoke weed and it is not taking in as huge of a hit as he can and coughing like crazy. No, he likes to breathe it in, hold it for as long as he can and let it out smoothly. He let’s out a sigh of relief as he can already feel himself calming down, a small grin plastered on his face.

He puts the pipe back up to his lips when he hears someone walking up behind him. Mickey turns around and sees Ian Gallagher walking up to him, or maybe just walking by to skip class also, because that would make more sense. He’s never talked to Ian before.

Sure, he knows who he is because they live on the same block, and he’s a Gallagher so, everyone knows that family, but he’s never bothered to ever talk to any of the Gallaghers. They’re a pretty fucked up family.

“Hey,” Ian says, walking from behind Mickey to in front, nodding. Mickey nods back, furrowing his brow because why the fuck is he standing there now. “You mind if I hang out here for a bit? My older sister thinks I go to school everyday and sometimes I do, but today isn’t a good day for me. Not really feeling it.”

“There’s plenty of other places you can go squat and wait for school to be over with,” Mickey says, because what the fuck?

“I know,” Ian admits, and Mickey isn’t getting why he isn’t leaving then. “Can I take a hit?”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Mickey asks, letting out a small laugh and wiping a hand from his mouth down to his chin. “You’re gonna just pop over and try and smoke my weed?”

“No. I mean, yeah. But I can pick some up and bring you some more tomorrow, if you’re gonna be here again?”

Is he assuming that Mickey is going to be totally fine with just sharing his weed? Because, no. Even though he did offer to bring some for tomorrow, which would actually be cool since Mickey is running low.

“You better fucking bring some tomorrow,” Mickey threatens, handing the pipe over to Ian.

“I will,” Ian says, a smile lifting his face up as he puts the pipe to his lips, and fuck, Mickey is starting to get gay thoughts.

He tries to think about tits and ass, but fuck, guys have asses too. He tries to think about anything except Ian’s red lips on his pipe and the way he adam’s apple is jutting out and the way his eyes are fluttering close as he takes in a deep breath.

Ian starts coughing and that takes Mickey’s mind away from that train of thought. Good.

Mickey laughs and grab the pipe from him, “bitch,” he says, as he puts the pipe to his lip, sucking in clean and smooth.

“Fuck you,” Ian laughs, squatting down across from Mickey, cupping his hands and holding them to his mouth. “It’s getting cold again.”

“Yeah, well it’s October,” Mickey says, letting the smoke that he had been holding in. “Happens every fucking year.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Ian says, reaching for the pipe, and Mickey doesn’t hand it over.

“Who ever said I’d give you more than one hit? Besides you wasted it, fucking coughing like a bitch.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, man,” Ian says, still with his hand out. “I haven’t smoked in a while, ROTC and all kind of made me want to try to be better.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey sighs and hands it over, along with the lighter. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Well,” Ian takes in a hit, closing his mouth and holding it in. “We’ve been in school for a month,” smoke comes out as Ian talks, “and here I am.”

“What’s your sister gonna think?”

Mickey can see that he can cherry it and grabs the pipe, tapping the weed down with his lighter and sucking in, watching it burn and feeling the smoke in his throat, hot and harsh. He is not about to cough in front of Ian though; he holds it in as long as he can and slowly lets it out, pretty pleased with himself.

“Well she’s dealing with my dad, so she probably won’t really notice.”

Mickey can feel himself loosening up. His mouth is stuck on a permanent grin, or at least it feels that way for him and he’s more relaxed than he’s been all week.

“Frank, right?” Mickey says, putting the pipe down because he’s good with his high, not caring if Ian is or not.

“Yeah,” Ian says, and looks down at his fingers, intertwining them together. “You know him.”

“Walked in on him once blowing some dude for drugs. Sure he’s not a fag?”

Ian’s brows furrow at that word, or at least Mickey thinks they do, but his face softens back up and Ian shakes his head, mumbling something to himself.

“Huh?” Mickey wants to know what the fuck it is he’s saying.

“That word,” Ian shakes his head again. “Nothing. No. My dad isn’t a _fag_.”

Something about the way he says it, makes Mickey look down and fiddle with his scarf. He’s not sure why but he kind of feels guilty for using that word, or at least maybe sorry if it offends Ian, but sucking another dude off is gay.

“Yeah, he’s just a mess,” Mickey says, looking back up and seeing Ian nod.

“I should go,” Ian says, already getting up.

“Alright,” Mickey nods at him and then remembers. “Don’t forget to bring weed tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay,” Ian is already walking away.

“Hey I mean it, man, I know where you live! I’ll find you if you don’t bring me some.”

And Mickey almost doesn’t recognize himself. Okay, yeah, Ian smoked some of his weed but really it was 2 hits and Mickey isn’t even sure if he wants Ian to show up again. Something about the way Ian seemed to get mad at him for saying that confuses him, and he kind of liked the company, although he will never admit that. And he still is high, so that must be why he is acting all sketched out on himself. It has nothing to do with anything specific. He just needs to go back to relaxing in the quiet and not thinking about anything because thinking about things never ends up good.

His day goes by pretty slowly after that and when he gets home, he goes straight to the bathroom. Tearing his clothes off like they’re on fire and hops in the shower, not even waiting for it to get warm before his hands tight on his cock, yanking at it like he needs it.

Jerking off is a way to relax, and also a way for him to not think.

But for some reason, Ian keeps popping up in his head as he leans his head against the tile, cupping his balls in one hand as he jerks himself with the other. Flashes of Ian’s mouth wrapped around the pipe and the way his eyes closed as he inhaled and fuck, Mickey’s thinking of other things his mouth can wrap around.

He’s desperate now, just wanting the end result, and when he finally comes, and all the tension leaves his body, Ian is still in his mind, but he’s trying his best to replace the thoughts with tits and think back to lesbian porn he’s watched, which did nothing for him, but he hates to admit that to himself.

That night he can’t fall asleep and he keeps tossing and turning, thinks maybe if he jerks off one more time he can calm down, but his eyes start to feel heavy and he decides to just close his eyes and count until he can knock out.

The last thought he has before finally sleeping is wondering if Ian is actually going to show up tomorrow with weed, and if them smoking together will become a normal thing.


	2. well fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian, well, they get a little familiar with each other to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's unedited so I'm sorry again! But, here's an update! I don't know how long this is gonna be to be honest, but this is just the beginning for sure, not saying it's gonna be this super long fic but this is definitely the beginning!! Hope you guys enjoy! :)

Mickey’s sitting down in his spot, and he hasn’t smoked a bowl yet, although he wants to, but it’s more that he’s waiting. Waiting for Ian. First period is well under way and Ian still hasn’t shown up, and Mikey’s annoyed. Scratch that, he’s mad, and although he won’t admit it, he’s a little disappointed.

“Fuck him,” Mickey mutters to himself, grabbing the pipe and filling it.

Two bowls later and he can’t even enjoy his high; although, he is relaxed. It’s just, well, he expected Ian to come and he hates getting his hopes up. He’s definitely going over to the Gallagher’s house after school and Ian better have a good excuse because no one fucks Mickey over. No one.

It’s an hour later, although Mickey doesn’t really know because time feels slower when he’s high. The only reason it sucks getting high during a school day, but really, he isn’t going to pass up feeling calm and relaxed all because time feels slower. So yeah, it’s an hour later and Mickey’s head is leaning back, his hands are shoved deep in his sweater pockets, trying to stay warm and he’s watching his breath come out in front of him.

He does it slowly and watches the white air cloud in front of his face; it’s fun to do, blow it out slowly and then quickly and watch the difference, the way his breath clouds and then shoots out into the frosty air.

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him, and Mickey turns, his reaction sure as fuck isn’t as fast as it normally is, but he sees Ian trudging over. “Sorry, man! Principal called my sister and shit and stuff with my dad but anyways, I brought it.”

“Gallagher,” Mickey says, slow and he feels like he’s squinting so he opens his eyes open as wide as he can; Ian starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Ian squats down across from him, just like the day before, “you’re high already, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, and?”

Ian pulls out a blue looking prescription pill container, unscrewing the top and tilting it for Mickey to see inside. “I got my brother to get me some top medical shit. But, since you’re already high, doubt you’ll wanna get completely baked.”

“Do you even fucking know me?” Mickey says, rubbing his eyes and fuck, he feels so chilled out. “I’m always good for getting high.”

“Alright,” Ian says, holding his hand out, “hand over the pipe and I’ll pack it.”

Mickey hands it over and watches Ian picking the stems out, and pack it. His index finger is long and he sticks it in the pipe and pushes the weed down and how is this making Mickey hard? Because it is. It’s actually making him really fucking hard.

“Fuck,” he groans out, and Ian looks up from his bowl, cocking his head and he looks like he’s about to say something. “This high is just really good.”

Ian nods, and looks at the pipe, he must be a perfectionist because it’s a fucking bowl of weed and he’s looking it over like he’s getting graded on it. He pulls a lighter out of his own pocket and Mickey’s enjoying the fact that he brought his own equipment. Mickey watches Ian intently as he takes his first hit and his eyes close and flutter again and, fuck, is he going to do that every time because that’s going to be distracting for Mickey.

“So,” Ian says, blowing the smoke out and grinning. “Did you think I bailed?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, as Ian hands over the pipe, but Mickey’s good for now, and he likes to watch Ian smoke, so he shakes his head no. “I was gonna come to your house after school.”

“Seriously?” Ian comments, and he’s puffing in another hit and doing his eye flutter.

“Well, I wasn’t about to let you fuck me over.”

“I don’t think anyone can fuck you over.” Ian has this stupid grin on his face and Mickey just wants him to stop grinning like that. “I mean, I don’t really have a death wish, nor do I want to die a virgin, so.”

“I wasn’t gonna kill you,” Mickey says, this time reaching his hand out because, enough with watching, he wants to try this so called top medical shit. “And virgin? Really?”

“Not everyone fucks anything,” Ian says, and he sounds a little irritated, but he hands over the pipe and shakes his head and Mickey can see a small grin on his face. “Not that I don’t want to, or I’m saving myself or any of that shit, I just, well, it’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated?” Mickey asks, holding his lighter up and watching the flame suck into the pipe, making the green flare red. Mickey holds it in, feeling the heat in his chest and wow, Ian wasn’t lying, this is some good shit; he blows out the smoke and his eyes feel heavy, and his mouth feels like it’s stuck on permanent grin mode. “Just fuck someone.”

“Like it’s that easy,” Ian laughs, “just grab someone and fuck them, okay.”

“It is that simple, though.” Mickey hands the pipe over and smacks his mouth open, licking his dry lips, hating cotton mouth.

“So just go up to someone and tell them to just get on their knees and suck me off until I fuck them,” Ian says, deadpanned, and Mickey gulps, loud, and hopes Ian didn’t hear. “I’ll let you know how that works out.”

“Please do,” Mickey laughs at the thought of someone’s reaction to that. “I’d love to see you with a black eye after a girl decks you for that.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

They sit there quietly, passing back the pipe, but not saying anything. Mickey fiddles with the hole on his sweater’s sleeve, which he’s actually making bigger. He notices and stops, but his hands are tapping on his pant leg now, and he isn’t sure why he can’t seem to sit still.

“So what’s your story?” Ian asks, and neither of them are smoking now, so Ian’s hands are tucked tight in his pockets and his cheeks are flushed, breath fogging out in front of him.

“The fuck?” Mickey says, because honestly, who asks something like that? “I don’t know. You mean to tell me you haven’t heard stories about me?”

“Stories, sure,” Ian says, meeting Mickey’s gaze and Mickey can feel his eyes shoot to the side, looking anywhere but at Ian’s because somehow that makes him uneasy. “You’re an asshole. I mean, that’s what all the stories I hear say, but those are stories told by people who aren’t you, you know? I doubt you’re as bad as everyone makes you out to be.”

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.”

“So you mean to tell me you kill people and bury their bodies behind the subway station?”

“Fuck,” Mickey laughs, “that’s what people say, huh?”

“Mainly just to incoming freshmen.”

“That’s fucking great,” Mickey thinks that is the best thing he’s heard in a while. People telling incoming freshmen to be afraid of him, honestly, beautiful. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Ian asks, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip, and fuck, now it’s shining wet and Mickey want to just, well, he’s not going to finish that thought.

“You have any crazy stories told about you?”

“A few,” Ian says, looking down at his feet. “Nothing like yours.”

“Oh yeah? What are they?” Mickey’s genuinely interested, especially since he doesn’t show up to school so he never hears anything. This might be fun, catching up on what get’s said at school.

“Nothing,” Ian looks up and meets Mickey’s gaze again, only this time Mickey doesn’t look away. “Just stuff, that I know would freak you out.”

“Freak me out?” Mickey laughs, and then furrows his brow, because what the fuck could freak him out. He’s Mickey Milkovich, nothing scares him. “Gallagher, I don’t get scared easily, I ‘aint some bitch.”

“I know and that’s just it,” Ian breaks the stare and now he’s the one fiddling with his clothes. Mickey doesn’t know what the fuck Ian is talking about, but now he needs to know. “You, how do I word this. You, well, you just have this personality and shit about you and I know you’d either dip out right after I tell you or beat the shit out of me.”

Yeah, Mickey _needs_ to know now.

“Okay?” Mickey gnaws at his lower lip. “I promise I won’t beat the shit out of you, or whatever.” Ian just gives him this look, the type of look that tells Mickey that Ian doesn’t believe him, so Mickey puts his right hand to his heart. “I don’t go back on my word, okay? So as a Milkovich, I promise not to beat the shit out of you.”

“Fuck,” Ian mutters to himself and then runs his hand through his hair, “basically, well, people say I’m gay.”

“People say you’re a fudge packer?” Mickey starts to laugh, and he can’t help it, but he thought it was going to be some horrible thing about something fucked up, not a rumor about Ian getting dick in his ass. Fuck. Mickey’s thinking about Ian bent over taking a dick and now he’s sporting a hard on; he makes sure his coat is hanging over his pants.

“In less poetic terms, yes.”

“Well are you?” And Mickey wants to know, but he doesn’t at the same time. If he knows, and he willingly hangs out with Ian, then rumors might start, and he can’t have people thinking he’s gay, because if that get’s back to his dad somehow, it can end badly. But at the same time, the thought of fucking Ian raw is, well, he has to know.

Ian stays quiet and Mickey’s watching his eyes dart from side to side, and his mouth opening but then closing, like he’s going to say something but can’t.

“Yes.”

Mickey can almost hardly hear it Ian says it so low, but he says it, and Mickey hears it and now Mickey doesn’t know what to do. Does he say “cool” and act like nothing or does he just leave? That’d be fucked up. But saying “cool” would be weird, so he just nods up and down a few times, watching Ian look up at him, probably waiting for a reaction.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Mickey admits, and Ian half smirks, and Mickey wants to punch the smirk right off him. “Don’t smirk.”

“I just, well, I expected you to like get up and leave or call me a faggot and walk off,” Ian says, and the way he says it sounds like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “I just didn’t think you’d be cool about it all?”

“To each their own, but I’m not gay,” Mickey states, and he’s not sure why he even did, but he felt like he had to.

“Obviously,” Ian laughs, standing up and stretching. Mickey watches his sweater rise, along with his shirt and he can see his white skin, with a trail of red hair leading down and it gets cut off by his boxers, but Mickey can see veins along his waist and he turns away, looking towards the ground.

He’s still hard.

“Hey!” A voice yells from the end of the bleachers, and Mickey bolts up, realizing it’s security. “Don’t run!”

Before the security guard can even finish, Mickey is booking it, Ian right next him. The cold air is sharp in his lungs and Ian is getting ahead of him; he can hear the security guard charging after them, saying something, probably on his walkie. They’re out of the back of the bleachers and to the fence at the end of the football field, Ian is already jumping onto the chain link fence and hopping over.

Mickey jumps and his fingers latch onto the chain, and it’s cold as fuck, but he kicks his legs into the fence and works his way up, hopping over and onto the concrete sidewalk on the other side, running down the street.

Once they’re a block away Mickey slows down and he’s heaving for air. Ian stops and looks back at him, Mickey’s hands are on his knees and he’s bending down catching his breath.

“ROTC helps with running away from security,” Ian says, and he doesn’t even sound out of breath, that motherfucker.

“Smoking doesn’t,” Mickey says, letting a cough out, and standing back up, walking up to where Ian is waiting for him.

“So what now?” Ian asks, and their walking side by side now, and it all seems a little to weird for Mickey.

“I would say let’s hang out at my place but my dad’s home and he’s a piece of shit,” Mickey says, not wanting to be seen walking around together.

“We could go chill at my house,” Ian says, and Mickey nods. “Frank might be there but he’ll be passed out if he is so it won’t be a problem.”

They walk in silence to Ian’s house and Mickey knows where it is because they live on the same block, and also, the cops are always showing up at the Gallagher house. Every time it involves Frank. Ian opens up the door, and it’s not locked, but Mickey figures there’d be no reason to since the Gallaghers probably have nothing good to take.

They’re sitting on the couch, watching Maury, and Mickey isn’t sure what to say or do. So he doesn’t say anything, just sits with his legs open, because that’s how he always sits, and when his legs ends up against Ian’s he pulls it away.

“Dude,” Ian says, turning to him, “you’re not gonna catch gay if we touch.”

“I’m not stupid,” Mickey snaps, letting his leg relax and fall back where it was, trying not to think of how it’s against Ian’s. “I just didn’t want you thinking I was, nevermind.”

“Okay?” Ian turns back to the tv and Mickey looks at him, and nibbles on his lower lip because he wants to do so many things right now, but he can’t. He won’t let himself.

“Care if I switch the channel?” Mickey asks, grabbing the remote off the coffee table, and Ian shakes his head no. Mickey starts flipping through the channels, most of it is infomercials and soap operas, Mickey keeps flipping. Suddenly there are tits on the screen and a girl moaning and she’s bent over and Mickey doesn’t change it.

“Dude,” Ian says, reaching for the remote, but Mickey pulls his hand out and Ian misses, his hand lands on Mickey’s thigh.

Mickey can feel himself getting hard, can feel Ian’s grip on his thigh, only inches away from his cock, and he isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he doesn’t pull Ian’s hand away or move. Instead, he finds himself smiling and leaning back, watching the girl on the screen getting fucked.

Ian is looking from the tv to Mickey and back, but still hasn’t moved his hand; Mickey figures he can probably feel his hard on and Mickey kind of wants to see where this goes, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He _should_ move away, switch the channel, leave, do anything but sit leaning back while Ian’s hand is on his thigh and porn is on.

Ian’s hand moves up just the slightest and Mickey keeps his gaze focused on the tv, not looking at Ian, not looking down at the situation about to happen. Mickey can feel Ian’s hand move a little bit further up and now it’s gripped on his cock, and Mickey can hear Ian breathing heavily; Mickey lets out the slightest groan as Ian starts to palm at it.

Ian grips Mickey’s cock and moves his hand back and forth against his jeans; Mickey keeps his gaze focused solely on the tv because, he’s getting jerked off by a guy, and he doesn’t really want to look down and accept it just yet.

But Ian’s moving faster now and Mickey can feel Ian’s other hand come over and unbutton his pants; Mickey doesn’t stop it.

“Fuck,” he hears Ian groan as Ian unzips his pants, reaching in and roping his hand around Mickey’s cock, gripping along and moving up and down.

Next thing Mickey knows his pants and boxers are around his knees and Ian’s working his cock like he owns it; spitting into his hand and slicking it up, his face leaning on Mickey’s shoulder, breath hot on Mickey’s neck.

Mickey leans his head back and holy fuck, he’s already going to come. He let’s out a moan that he doesn’t even recognize and Ian picks up speed, tightening his grip just a little and using his other hand to rub Mickey’s balls and fuck, it feels amazing.

“I’m gonna,” is all Mickey can say before he’s tensing up and coming; Ian’s rhythm slowing down, his grip tightening around his head and he slowly goes up and down a few more times, making it last for Mickey.

“Fuck,” Ian groans, his face red, and his mouth slightly open, letting out a groan himself.

Mickey snaps back into reality and realizes what just happened and looks down at himself; come on his leg, Ian’s hand still gripping his dick, and Ian still right next to his face, still breathing heavily.

“I have to go,” Mickey jumps up, yanking his jeans up and buttoning them quickly, not looking back at Ian. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you.”

“Calm down,” Ian says, standing up and walking to the kitchen, washing his hands off, “I won’t tell anyone,” Ian says over the water. “I know how much it sucks to be outed when you’re not ready.”

“I’m not gay,” Mickey says, but he can hear his voice falter, can hear all the doubt in it, and he doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to have this discussion.

Before Ian can come back into the living room, Mickey is already out the door and running down the street. Fuck, he just broke the one thing he always told himself he wouldn’t do, let his thoughts turn into actions, and he did it with one of his neighbors. A feeling of dread sweeps over him and he runs past his house, and doesn’t stop.

He runs until his chest hurts so much he has to stop, but he doesn’t stop. Mickey doesn’t know where he’s going, let alone what he’s doing, but he knows he can’t go home right now. Somehow, his family will know, his _dad_ will know, and he’s fucking terrified.


	3. it just happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey may just have to go with it because each time is bringing on something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So unedited as usual, sorry! But, alas an update! Hope you guys enjoy this one! :)

It’s been exactly three days since the incident. Mickey is calling it the incident because it isn’t going to happen again; it was a one time thing and that’s it. No Ian.

Although, it’s easier said than done. Especially when all Mickey can think about it Ian’s hands gripping him, breathing on his neck, hot and heavy. And well, Mickey maybe has been thinking about it every time he jerks off, but that’s not too big of a deal, so long as he never acts on it again.

He’s out of the shower and since he isn’t going to the spot under the bleachers anymore he stays home; although, he cannot stand it. His dad doesn’t have a job, that low life, and he just sits around all day in his plaid boxers and opened up dirty gray bathrobe. It’s repulsive to have to be in the same room with him, but he’s willing to, at least for now, until he feels it’s safe to go back to his spot without Ian showing up.

Mickey’s sitting on the worn out, ripped up, stain filled brown couch in the living room watching Jerry Springer on the small ass wooden clunker of a tv. The antenna is on the top, pointing in opposite directions with large foil balls wrapped on the tips. The screen is still blurry as shit but Mickey isn’t complaining, it’s not like he needs Jerry Springer to be in HD.

“The fuck you watching?” His dad strolls in, plopping down on the couch next to him and he smells awful.

“Jerry,” Mickey says, not wanting to look over at his dad. “Some girl’s husband fucked her mom, her aunt, her sister and her dad.”

“Her dad?” Terry let’s out a groan of disgust. “Fucking faggots, they’re everywhere. The more the tv makes it look normal the more they’re gonna keep coming. Disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Mickey grinds his teeth and for some reason his heart is pounding in his chest and he feels sick to his stomach. “Fuck, I just remembered, I gotta show up for some bullshit test.”

“Give me the remote, I ‘aint gonna watch this shit.”

Mickey hands his dad the remote and dips out, not looking back, just opening up the front door and heading out into the cold. He doesn’t really know where to go, because he isn’t sure he wants to test out behind the bleachers just yet, in fear that Ian might be there. But, it has been three days, so he doubts Ian would have gone everyday, for fuck sakes it was only a handjob, and Ian didn’t get any and it’s not like he’s going to, _ever_.

The decision isn’t really made so much as his body leads him to the school because of routine and all that shit. And no, he’s not in some small capacity hoping that Ian will be there because that would just be crazy. And yet, Ian is all he is thinking about.

Mickey’s on the field trudging over to the bleachers and he stops, thinking it over because he can just walk away and go chill in an alleyway or even go back home and not have see what’s on the other side of the bleachers, but that feels like running away and Mickey isn’t one to run away. Plus he doesn’t want to have Ian Gallagher dictate where the fuck he goes and what the fuck he does.

His mind is made up as he takes the last few steps and walks behind the bleachers, hearing his feet grind against the dirt and rocks. Focusing on his feet, Mickey doesn’t look up because he’s not ready to see, but really, what’s there to be afraid of? So he lifts his head up to look.

Ian is sitting there.

Ian is fucking sitting down in _his_ spot. This has got to be some sick joke, some dream because this kids got some balls. Mickey rubs his eyes harshly, thinking maybe he is just imagining it, but no, Ian is sitting down, legs spread open and head leaning back, blowing his breath into the cold air.

Mickey makes his way across the ground and Ian’s head bobs back down and he is staring straight at Mickey; a really fucking dumb smile is lifting on Ian’s face and Mickey wants nothing better than to just walk up and deck the shit out of him, but he refrains.

“So he shows up,” Ian says, clapping his hands together. “Thought you’d never come back.”

“This is _my_ spot,” Mickey says angrily, sitting down across from Ian. “Why the fuck are you here anyways?”

“Figured it’s public grounds and I can sit wherever the hell I want,” Ian smirks, but it wipes off his face quicker than it came, “plus we should talk about what happened.”

“Nothing to talk about.” Mickey isn’t going to do this, fuck that.

“Really?” Ian sighs, rolling his eyes the way his sister does. “I jerk you off and there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey snaps, leaning forward and Ian doesn’t back away. “It was a fucking mistake, okay? It’s never gonna happen again.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t want it again?” Ian’s smirking, like he always seems to do and it’s really pissing Mickey off; he’s never met someone who isn’t afraid of him in the least bit, it’s weird.

“I already told you, I’m not a fucking faggot.” Ian’s smirk fades away pretty quickly after that word and Mickey is going to take a mental note of that, in case he ever has to get Ian the fuck away from him.

“Getting jerked off doesn’t make you gay,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his face scrunching up in dumbfoundedness.

“Are you listening to yourself? Anything with another guy is gay in my book.”

“Well maybe you need an editor to work on your book,” Ian laughs and Mickey rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious. I know you liked it, you can’t fucking deny that. Or at least your dick did.”

Fuck, Mickey can feel his dick getting hard, and he’s trying his best to focus on anything that will make it stop, but his thought process is getting cut off because Ian is still talking about his dick.

“You can’t tell me it was because of the porn. That was shit quality porn and you didn’t stop me. You could have, but you didn’t. You let me at it, and I bet you’d let me again.” Ian is leaning in a little bit and Mickey stays still, maybe he’s imagining it. “I bet you want me around your cock, all hot and hard and you just get to sit there and watch, feel it all.”

No, he’s definitely not imagining it, Ian is getting really fucking close, like inches away and Mickey backs up the slightest, moving his head back and away.

Ian drops down in front of him and Mickey can feel Ian’s hands fumbling with his zipper, unbuttoning his pants and yanking them down.

“What the fuck, Gallagher!” But then Ian’s mouth is on his dick and any other thought he has is literally blown away.

Ian’s mouth is hot and wet and goddamn does he know how to work it; he closes tight around Mickey’s head and works his way down, taking it all and Mickey let’s out a hitched moan, biting his knuckles as he watches it all happen. Watches the back of Ian’s head bob up and down, and he feels it all. Ian’s tongue works around his cock and then he takes his mouth off and Mickey feels lost without it, so in the moment he doesn’t know why Ian would stop.

“I knew you wanted it,” Ian says, looking up at Mickey, his cheeks flushed, his lips plump and red and then he’s back on Mickey’s cock, one of his hands rubs up Mickey’s chest and next thing Mickey knows he’s sucking Ian’s thumb. “Fuck,” Ian moans, and Mickey honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing but he likes it, a lot.

Mickey can see Ian working his other hands on his own crotch, palming at his hard on in his jeans and Mickey wants to feel it? But that would be too far, even for him, and yet watching Ian jerk himself off through his jeans isn’t enough.

He _needs_ more.

“Ian,” Mickey let’s out, low and guttural and then Ian goes completely down, moving his head side to side, and Mickey can feel his muscles tensing, but he is not going to come yet. Hell no. “Ian, fuck, please.”

“Yeah?” Ian says, pulling his face up and before Mickey can think he pushes Ian back so that he’s on his back and Mickey is above him, waist in between Ian’s spread out legs.

Mickey watches his hands reach out and undo Ian’s jeans, watches his hands yank Ian’s jeans down and he doesn’t recognize them, because he swore he would never do this. He swore that he wouldn’t let this happen again, and yet Ian’s underneath him, his dick hard against his stomach, leaking, and Mickey’s hand is wrapped around it, moving up and down, slowly.

“Is this good?” Mickey asks, because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Jerking off himself is way different because he knows what his dick likes, knows how to work his body but Ian, well, he really has no idea.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ian groans, and rocks his hips up into Mickey’s hand.

Mickey’s dick is still out and hard as fuck so he takes his other hand and starts jerking himself off. It’s still wet from Ian’s mouth so his hand slides up and down without effort; he takes his other hand and spits in it, going back onto Ian’s cock, slicking it up, rubbing his thumb over Ian’s head and it’s leaking with precome.

It’s so fucking hot.

“Lay next to me,” Ian says, and Mickey doesn’t really question it, just goes with it, lying down on the ground next to Ian. Ian takes his hand and starts to jerk Mickey off, while Mickey goes back to jerking him off; his arm crossed over Ian’s and holy fuck he’s already about to come, but then Ian says, “I’m gonna come,” and Mickey’s glad he’s not the first.

Mickey tightens his grip and works his hand faster and faster, listening to Ian’s short moans, watching him biting his bottom lip as his hips thrust into the air, and then he’s coming, hot and sticky all over Mickey’s hand but he doesn’t care. He works his hand down slowly and back up, pumping it all out thick onto Ian’s stomach and it’s one of the hottest things Mickey’s seen.

“Fuck,” Mickey let’s out, and then he’s coming. His whole body tenses up as Ian’s hand works it’s magic. Mickey can feel his eyes roll back, his body roll with it as he shoots out onto his stomach, opening up his mouth the slightest and letting out a moan as Ian’s hand slows down.

“Holy shit,” Ian says, letting go of Mickey, “how the hell are we gonna clean this?”

Mickey takes off his scarf and wipes the come off his stomach, handing it over to Ian; he yanks his pants back up and suddenly is very aware of the fact that it’s cold as fuck out. Mickey shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and goes back to sitting down in his usual spot, watching Ian as he pulls his jeans up and sits down across from him.

“So are you gonna run away again?” Ian asks, and he pulls out his own pipe, which Mickey isn’t sure how to feel about.

“You have your own pipe?” Mickey says, because he’s going to ignore the question.

“Yes. I don’t only get high with you, I have a life too.” Ian takes a lighter out of his other pocket and lights up, meaning he was smoking before Mickey came, and now Mickey suddenly feels very sober.

“Give me a hit,” Mickey says, reaching out his hand, and Ian hands it over. Mickey breathes it in smooth, holding it in and feeling his body mellow out, his shoulders relax and he has a smile on his face as he blows out.

“So,” Ian says, and his cheeks are still just as flushed as they were while he was deep throating Mickey. “Public sex a usual thing of yours?”

“I get off wherever I can,” Mickey takes another hit, and hands it over to Ian since it’s still cherrying; Ian pushes it in with the end of the lighter and sucks in.

“Was that your first time jerking another guy off?” That fucking smirk is on his face again.

“Fuck, Gallagher, you always full of questions or what?”

“I think I’m allowed to ask some questions, especially if I wanna know the guy who I had shoved all the way in the back of my throat.”

Mickey shakes his head, because really, how the fuck did he end up here, talking to Ian Gallagher after jerking him off. Things are happening way too fast and Mickey suddenly feels a little freaked out, but he isn’t going to run away this time; he isn’t a bitch.

“Yes. I never jerked a guy off and I never fucking planned on it either.” Mickey runs his hand through his hair and sighs, gnawing at his lower lip. “Fuck. I always said I would never do this.”

“If you’re worried I’m gonna tell or anything, don’t be,” and Ian has this puppy dog expression on his face that Mickey can’t help but smile, even if it’s just a one sided smile. “Dude, like I was saying the other day, I know how much it sucks to be outed. I would never do that to someone.”

“You don’t understand,” Mickey says, and he can feel his heart beating in his chest, his breathing getting a little more shallow, “I _can’t_ be gay.”

“You can’t help what you are,” Ian scoots over and pats Mickey on the shoulder, and Mickey doesn’t even flinch. “Some people are gay, it isn’t a big deal.”

“No you don’t understand,” Mickey isn’t sure what the fuck he is doing, because he’s spent his whole life trying to convince himself that he isn’t gay. Tell himself that when he looked at guys in porn, that he was just doing a size comparison, that whatever the fuck it was that he has been feeling his whole life wasn’t real. And now, here he is, about to possibly admit out loud to himself and another person that he may in fact be gay? It’s just too much. “My dad will kill me.”

“Man, I thought the same thing, but Frank was pretty chill about it all, had some spiel about how men need sex and if they wanna fuck another man so be it.” Ian looks at Mickey and the looks he gives is so genuine that Mickey isn’t used to it. “You’ll be fine.”

“My dad beat the shit out of me because he saw me watching a video of a guy jerking off,” Mickey says, not wanting to meet Ian’s gaze so he he looks down at his fingers which are intertwined together and white from gripping so hard. “He said ‘i ‘aint raising a fucking faggot’ and dragged me out of my room and just started punching me and kicking me and all I could do was lay there covering my face and hoping it’d end.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ian says, and Mickey still won’t look up at him.

“I was thirteen,” Mickey nods his head and looks up, this time locking eyes with Ian. “I can’t be gay.”

“Okay.”

They leave it at that, Mickey somehow feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder. Ian and him go back to smoking, not really saying anything much after that; it’s nice. Mickey likes the company and he trusts Ian when he says he isn’t going to tell anyone.

There’s something else, also. Mickey can’t help but watch Ian, the way he laughs, his smile, his eyes and it isn’t in a sexual way, which he’s so used to. No, when he looks at Ian he feels a smile tugging on his lips and he feels somehow happy? Happy to just be hanging out with Ian, happy that Ian understands him and he’s actually happy Ian isn’t afraid of him.

It’s all so different and Mickey has to adjust to it, but the way Ian is making him feel can’t be a bad thing, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I do have a tumblr if anyone wants to pop in and talk about it or heckle me for an update or whatever it's mickeymilkovandamn although I might switch that real soon, so I'll update it on here when I do :)


	4. muthatruckin p i m p

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry's a piece of shit and Mickey has to get out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So unedited as usual! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! :)

Everything’s been going too good, something is going to come along and ruin it, Mickey can sense it. Nothing ever stays remotely okay in his life. And the fact that his dad has been binge drinking for the past couple of days is the exact reason why he senses something is going to happen.

“Stay away from him, okay,” Mickey says, watching Mandy stirring the mac and cheese in the black scratched up pot. “He’s drinking non stop and that’s never fucking good.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” she snaps back, shaking the salt over the pot. “I’ve been dealing with Terry trying to come onto me since mom died. I know what to do.”

“Okay, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah well thanks, but I’m fine. Besides Gian’s coming over tonight.” The way her smile lightens up her face makes Mickey feel alright, even if he doesn’t know who the fuck this Gian guy is. All her other boyfriends have been shit and she never smiled like that when they came over.

“He good to you?” Mickey cracks his knuckles, one by one, and Mandy just glares at him, because no matter how menacing he tries to be, his sister never seems to take him seriously.

“Yeah, he’s real good to me.”

Mickey leaves it at that, waving bye to Mandy as he walks quietly past Terry, who’s knocked out on the couch. He’ll end up waking up eventually and Mickey doesn’t want to be there when he does. He knows Mandy can take care of herself, has been her whole life, so that’s not his biggest concern. Although, with his brothers out of the house, he is the slightest bit worried something bad might happen, but he decides to shake the fear off before he changes his mind on leaving.

It’s Saturday so there’s no school, although, Mickey always has Saturday school; he just never shows. It’s funny that they even still call his house, reminding him of Saturday school, when he doesn’t even bother showing up to his actual classes.

There’s no point in going behind the bleachers so he figures he’ll head over to The Alibi, because Kev sure as fuck doesn’t card on a count that he can’t afford to lose the business and why the fuck would he?

It’s chilly out and Mickey regrets using his scarf to clean up the come because his neck feels like small daggers are being jabbed into him every time the wind whips by. It’s a quick walk and he makes it even quicker by cutting through a few alleyways, hopping a few fences and not giving a fuck whether there’s oncoming traffic. Pedestrian always has the right of way or some shit.

He flings open the door to The Alibi and he can already hear Frank ranting about some dumbass cause that he feels everyone else needs to hear. Mickey rolls his eyes and plops down at the end of the bar. The stools look soft and cushioning but are in fact hard as rocks. Cheap ass place can’t even have nice seats for their customers.

“‘Ey Kev,” Mickey says, waving a hand; Kev walks over and nods, “get me a shot of tequila.”

Kev comes back with a shot glass full to the top, and Mickey appreciates it. He downs it and man it get’s him every time, but he keeps his mouth close, letting the burning feeling subside before he takes in a breath; he is not about to cough after taking a shot.

“Can I have another, and a beer,” Mickey says, still tasting the tequila all over the inside of his mouth.

“You celebrating?” Kev asks, bringing another shot and a beer.

“Nah,” Mickey says, moving the shot glass around on the table, watching the dirty ass looking guy next to him reach into the peanuts and grab a handful. He’s not going to be eating the peanuts tonight. “Terry’s on another bender, figured I’d have a few to chill out before going back.”

“Smart man,” Kev nods, wiping the counter down and then throwing the dish towel back over his shoulder, walking back to refill another low life’s cup.

“So you see,” Frank continues on, and now Mickey is forced to listen because Frank’s standing on his stool, waving one hand around while holding a beer with the other. “If we just say fuck you to the government and keep driving our oil filled cars and keep using our Chevys and our Lincolns they will be forced to stop this green act. Global warming? Nay. We live in a society where we let the Man speak for us, and what do we get from it? No healthcare and our rights stripped away-”

“Frank, what the fuck are you talking about,” Mickey says, tossing back his second shot, watching Frank’s brow furrow, one of his eyes drooping. He’s smashed.

“I’m saying,” Frank continues, “that if we refuse to buy electric cars, refuse to pay more for _organic_ fruits, then the government will stop.”

“Stop what, Frank?” Kev chimes in, giving Mickey a wink, and Mickey smirks because it’s good to know he’s not the only one that thinks Frank is crazy.

“Stop lying!” Frank exclaims, taking a long swig of his beer. “Running out of oil my ass! That’s what they want you to think. Truth is, if we demand it, if we really refuse to buy all the green hippy shit they want, then somehow, miraculously, they will find more oil.”

“Alright, Frank,” Kev says, motioning for him to sit down. “We get it.”

“I sure hope so,” Frank plops back down into his stool. “It’s just a matter of time, you watch.”

The bar goes back to people talking, glasses clinking and Mickey is almost done with his beer. He feels calmer that’s for sure, but he asks for one more shot to just be sure; that does it. After that shot he definitely feels good, although, he always knows if he’s feeling it when he pees.

Mickey walks into the bathroom and goes into the stall, closing the hatch behind him and fuck, it’s the best piss of his life. His head falls back and he closes his eyes, feeling his head sway back and forth.

And as much as he hates to admit it, he’s a lightweight, and is definitely feeling the booze. Although, he’s not drunk, because that would require a lot more alcohol.

He’s still pissing and he feels himself teeter forward, shoving his hand out in front of him, balancing himself. Looking at the wall, he sees all these different sentences scribbled on the it and then he sees the one he had left there a long ass time ago.

“Mickey gets all the Milkobitches,” he reads to himself and then starts laughing, finishing up and zipping his fly.

Mickey walks out of the bathroom and sees that Frank is yet again on another rant and decides he’s not going to be subjected to this bullshit. He asks for one more shot, and tells Kev to add it to Franks tab because that shit never closes; Kev laughs, but agrees, and Mickey takes his last shot of tequila before leaving The Alibi, hearing Frank ramble on as he walks out.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a joint that he rolled earlier in the day, because he knew damn well that he was going to use it with Terry on a bender. He lights it up and smokes it as he walks down the street. It’s not like a cop is going to bust him for smoking a spliff, at least not in this neighborhood. His fingers pinch at the end of the joint as he inhales it, loving the calmness that is washing over him like a wave.

The L passes over as he walks down some alleyway that’s basically just dirt. It’s loud and zipping along but he stops where he is, takes another puff and stares up at it, watching it pass over him in a blur, and just like that it’s gone.

All his thoughts are slowed down and all he can seem to focus on is Ian. He decides to sit down on the ground and enjoy being crossfaded because man it feels fucking great. Mickey closes his eyes and listens to the city, the people walking by, the sound of horns in the distance and the steady beat of his heart. Ian is all he’s thinking about though.

Mickey really wants to see him again.

He can feel his eyes getting heavier and heavier and next thing he knows he’s waking up to a stray dog licking his face. It’s a grimy looking dog too. It’s fur is full of dirt, it wreaks and yet here it is wagging its’ tail and licking Mickey’s cheek.

“Get the fuck off me,” he says, standing up too quickly and falling back against the concrete wall, looking around and realizing it’s nighttime now. “How long was I out for,” he mumbles to himself as he looks down at the dog. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Mickey walks out of the alleyway, no longer feeling any of the alcohol or weed in his system, meaning he’s been out for at least a couple of hours. He shakes his head as he walks home, hoping that his dad will still be knocked out.

He takes the same shortcut back to his house and as he’s walking up the block he sees Frank passed out on the Gallagher’s front lawn. Yeah, Frank Gallagher is the biggest fucking mess Mickey has ever seen. There’s a half empty bottle of beer lying perfectly right side up next to Frank’s face and Mickey is tempted to go by and knock it over but decides against it, figuring Frank won’t wake up and it won’t be all that funny.

Mickey hops up the steps to his house and opens the door slowly, hoping to not wake up his dad. Terry isn’t on the couch though, so Mickey doesn’t bother closing the door lightly, there’s no use.

“You fucking bitch!” Mickey hears Terry yell and he can feels his heart drop all the way to his stomach while his throat constricts.

This is what he’s been sensing all day.

Mickey rushes into the kitchen and see’s some guy on the floor of the kitchen, his eye swollen shut, dark and purple, blood all over his chin and a gash across his forehead.

“What the fuck?” Mickey says, hearing banging coming from down the hallway. “Mandy!” he yells as he darts into the hallway; he can see his dad banging on her bedroom door, only in his boxers.

“Get the fuck out here!” Terry yells, slamming his fists against the door. “You’re gonna fucking cheat on me in my own house!”

“Dad!” Mickey yells, seeing his dad turn slowly, holding himself up on the doorknob to Mandy’s room.

“Your mom cheated on me,” he says, words slurred as he turns back to the door. “In my own fucking house! Open up!”

“That’s Mandy!” Mickey shouts, rushing down the hallway until he’s only a few inches away from Terry, and he can smell him. The sweet smell of Crown Royal seeping through his pores, his stance wobbly and one of his eyes is shut. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

“What did you say to me?” Terry asks, his voice cold as ice as he turns, glaring at Mickey. “You better fucking respect me.”

“That isn’t mom,” Mickey says, not backing up, although he really wants to. His dad scares him. “That’s Mandy. You need to stop, okay?”

Before Mickey even knows it, his dad’s fist connects clean with his jaw and a loud pop fills the air as he falls back, pain spreading like a virus across his face. Terry steps forward as Mickey tries to balance himself and then there’s another punch, this time straight into his nose.

Mickey can taste blood in his mouth, warm and metallic and feels it dripping out of his nose; he falls back and lands on the floor, clean on his tailbone, groaning in pain. Terry tries to kick him while he’s down but loses his balance and falls straight back. Mickey can hear his head hit the floor and he scrambles to his feet, worrying Terry might get up in some kind of drunken rage and keep going, but he isn’t moving.

Mickey looks at Terry’s stomach and sees that he’s breathing; he’s knocked out.

“Mandy,” Mickey says, holding his hand to his nose, feeling the blood drip out and the pain shoot through him like jolts of lightning. “He’s knocked out. You can come out now.”

Mandy’s door creaks open and she steps out, her shirt ripped and a visible bruise on her left eye; Mickey’s going to kill Terry. She stands over Terry and spits on him.

“That motherfucker,” Mandy says, wiping her eyes, and wincing. “Me and Gian were in the kitchen and he just fucking stumbles in and punches me, talking about how I’m cheating on him. I ran the fuck out. Is Gian okay?”

She runs down the hallway towards the kitchen before Mickey can even respond. He pulls his hand away and looks at it; it’s covered in dark red blood, and he can feel the blood coming down from his nose and pooling on his chin. Mickey rushes to the bathroom and turns on the sink, filling his hands with the water and splashing it onto his face, gasping at how cold it is. He can see himself in the mirror and his jaw is red and already bruising; his nose doesn’t look broken but it sure doesn’t look good. Fucking Terry.

“I’m going over to Gians!” Mandy yells, and Mickey can hear the kitchen table screech, probably from GIan using it to stand up. “I won’t be back for a couple days, you should find someone to stay with. He’s gonna wake up and wanna kill one of us.”

She’s right, Mickey knows that, but he doesn’t know where to go. Sure, having a badass reputation as a thug who know one fucks with has it perks, but when it comes to this, well, he has no one to turn to. He can go back to The Alibi, but last calls at two and then he’ll be out on the streets, and sleeping on the streets in this cold of weather will fucking suck.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, splashing more water on his face, leaning in and putting his mouth under the faucet, swishing and spitting it out, seeing the pink blood filled water go down the drain. He leans on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror, his knuckles going white from squeezing.

Ian is the only person that seems to make any sense, but who’s to say that Ian will be alright with him just crashing out. Not to mention, if Ian’s family knows he’s gay, they might figure Mickey is and if that gets around then a few punches from Terry will be the least of his problems.

His heart is banging in his chest, his breathing is getting more erratic and he’s trying to figure it all out. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip when he hears Terry groan and before he can truly make up his mind he shuts off the faucet and runs out, hopping over Terry who is rubbing his eyes and starting to say something.

There’s no one else to go to. There’s no one else who will even remotely trust him in their house. It’s his only option.

Ian.

His hands are shaking and he’s hitting them against his hips as he walks up the stairs to the Gallagher’s front porch; Frank’s still passed out on the lawn. Before he can second guess himself he knocks on the door, quick and hard, rocking back and forth on his feet, anxious as hell.

“I’ll get it!” Mickey hears a girl yell and then the door flings open and Fiona is standing there, furrowing her brow and cocking her head. “Mickey? Lip steal something from you?”

“No,” he says, his eyes shifting around, looking to see if Terry somehow followed him. “Um, is Ian here?”

“Oh for Christ sakes,” Fiona sighs, leaning her head back and yelling, “Ian! Mickey Milkovich is here! If you did something from him or stole something just bring it down now!”

“No, no it’s not like that,” Mickey says, suddenly feeling like a piece of shit.

“Figured since you had a bloody nose and a bruised jaw someone must have done something to piss you off,” she runs her hand through her hair and stands there waiting.

“Yo!” Ian shouts, popping out by the side of Fiona and his smile makes Mickey feel better instantly. “Fiona,” he waves for her to leave, “we’re good.”

Fiona nods and walks back into the house, and now Mickey is facing Ian who is leaning against the door and his smile fades away.

“What happened?” Ian asks, putting his hand out and touching Mickey’s chin, lightly.

“My dad,” Mickey says, looking down and feeling ashamed.

“Oh shit, did he? About us?”

“What? No, no! He was drunk and basically I don’t know where else to go,” Mickey admits, and he feels like he’s a little kid because he never asks for help, makes him feel weak.

“Oh,” Ian says, nodding his head, “well come on in.”

Mickey walks in behind him, feeling awkward as hell. There’s two kids sitting on the couch watching something and they don’t even look up, or seem to care. The boy pokes the red head girl next to him and she calls him an asshole and hits his shoulder. Fiona is in the kitchen, feeding a baby and the whole house smells like chicken; it’s homely.

“Okay, so left over from dinner is in the oven to stay warm,” Fiona says, walking out of the kitchen and throwing on a coat. “Liam’s fed and Debbie will put him to bed. Carl, don’t burn anything while I’m gone. Okay. I think that’s everything. I’ll be home in the morning, these night shifts suck but we need the money. Love you guys.”

And with that she just leaves, rushing out the front door and everyone goes back to whatever it was they they were doing. Mickey feels like he’s in an alternate universe; in his house no one tells anyone anything, people come and go and it’s no one’s business where.

“Here, let’s go upstairs,” Ian says, pulling at Mickey’s hand and leading him up; Mick follows behind him.

Ian tells Mickey to go into his room, the one at the end of the hallway with caution tape all around it, Mickey laughs. He walks slowly into the room and sees a bed straight across from him and a bunk bed right next to the door. He can relate to having more than one person in a room, although ever since his brothers left he has his own room.

“The one straight across is mine,” Ian calls from the bathroom, and Mickey walks over and sits on it. It’s firm but comfy, and it creaks when Mickey sits down on it. “Alright,” Ian walks in holding a wet wad of toilet paper. “We didn’t have any first aid shit but here,” he puts the toilet paper out and touches right under Mickey’s nose; he winces. “Sorry.”

Ian cleans up the blood and does it gently, only making Mickey wince a few times when the paper hits his nose. Ian asks him what happened and Mickey tells him, trying to make it sound like he hit his dad back and didn’t just get hit; Ian just nods when he’s done he claps his hand down on Mickey’s shoulder, telling him he looks good as new.

“Thanks,” Mickey says, scrunching his nose and wiggling it from side to side, assessing how much pain his nose actually is in. It doesn’t hurt too bad, and he’s definitely felt worse, but getting hit in the nose always sucks, since he never realizes how much he uses it until it’s damaged.

“Anytime,” Ian says, walking out and throwing the wad of bloody toilet paper away in the toilet, Mickey can hear it flush. “You can stay over of course.”

“Cool,” he says, letting out a breath of relief that he didn’t even know he was holding in. “Oh yeah, Frank’s passed out in the front of your house.”

“When isn’t he,” Ian replies, plopping down next to Mickey on the bed, their shoulders side by side and Ian’s warm.

Mickey’s hands are tapping nervously on his thigh and then he feels Ian’s hand rest over his and Mickey looks up, Ian smiles at him and Mickey just nods, feeling Ian’s hand close around his. He takes a deep breath and leans his head down on Ian’s shoulder, not really sure why, but it feels right.

“This is getting real gay,” Mickey comments, because well it is. Ian just laughs and squeezes his hand tighter; Mickey closes his eyes and keeps his head on Ian’s shoulder, not trying to think of anything or everything but be in the moment.

“It’s okay, you know,” Ian says, and Mickey doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “To be scared.”

They don’t say anything after that, but Mickey keeps his head on Ian’s shoulder and Ian doesn’t take his hand away from Mickey’s. It’s peaceful.

“You good?” Ian asks after a long time, rubbing his thumb over Mickey’s and Mickey nods into Ian’s neck, not even caring that his nose rubbed against Ian and hurt like a bitch.

Mickey feels Ian’s hand come under his chin and lift his head up, making him and Ian’s faces so close that Mickey can feel Ian’s breath on his face. He’s not sure what to do, because he’s never kissed a guy before and sure he already jerked Ian off, but kissing is more intimate than a quick jerk behind the school bleachers.

“I…” but the words catch in Mickey’s throat and his heart is pounding in his chest, his palms are sweaty and he feels lightheaded? Maybe it’s just the blood loss, yeah that’s probably it.

But then Ian leans in and his lips are on Mickey’s and they’re so soft and Mickey loses any thought he’s having as his eyes close and he loses himself in it. Ian wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck, pulling him in close and Mickey’s hands falling on Ian’s waist, his heart feeling like it’s freefalling.

Ian pulls away and Mickey’s eyes flutter open, his mouth still partly open and his breath caught in his lungs; he closes his mouth and can still taste Ian on his lips, and it all feels so fucking right. Ian makes him feel like he can have something better than just a quicky or a one time fuck, like maybe him and Ian can actually work out.

But then Terry fills his head a second after and that’s when he comes back to his senses and remembers why he’s so against admitting it, acting on it, feeling anything that can be remotely considered gay.

Terry will kill him.

“Fuck,” Mickey whispers, and he can feel his eyes starting to burn and holy fuck he is not about to cry in front of Ian, let alone cry. He blinks faster and faster and Ian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t comment on it or even seem to acknowledge it, instead, Ian leans his head on Mickey’s shoulder and Mickey smiles, even though he feels like he might puke.

“I know,” Ian says, still resting his head on Mickey. “Dude, when I first, you know, dealt with _it_ I felt sick. I remember when I told Lip, I was shaking.” Ian laughs and shakes his head. “Lip didn’t care, and neither did anyone else. But Mickey,” and Ian pulls his head off of Mickey’s shoulder and looks him dead in the eyes. “If you ever need to leave your house because of Terry, you can stay here, okay?”

Mickey nods his head but he can’t imagine leaving his house, leaving Mandy to deal with Terry by herself, but maybe she can leave too. Maybe Gian is her way out just as much as Ian is his. Terry can rot in hell for all he cares, he just doesn’t want to leave without knowing that his sister is gone and safe also.

“Okay,” he says, and this time he leans in and kisses Ian, slow and tender and Mickey can feel Ian’s lips turning into a smile while they kiss and well, so does his.

They kiss some more, and Mickey loves it. The way he feels when Ian’s lips are on his, the comfortability of it, their lips locking together and when Ian’s tongue slips into Mickey’s mouth, well fuck, he never knew kissing could feel this good. Ian’s hand is resting on Mickey’s thigh and Mickey’s hand is holding the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him in as close as physically possible, wanting to never leave.

Ian’s hand moves up and then he’s grabbing at Mickey’s cock and it feels fucking great; Ian’s tongue still in his mouth, the little moans that escape from him when their lips part just the slightest and now he’s palming at Mickey’s dick; Mickey takes his hand off the back of Ian’s neck and moves it down, feeling Ian’s chest, his abs and then his hand is grabbing at his dick, needy and wanting.

Ian pulls away and before Mickey can go back in for more Ian’s mouth is hot on his neck, sucking a nipping and Mickey groans as Ian’s mouth works around his neck and his hand keeps up on his cock.

“Hey, Ian!” a kid calls from the staircase and Mickey can hear the footsteps coming up; Ian and him both move apart quicker than a gunshot and Mickey tries his best to look normal, but his neck has this burning feeling on it and his dick is still hard and he’s pretty sure his lips are red and raw.

“What is it, Carl?” Ian calls, standing up and giving Mickey a wink; Mickey snorts and is still trying to get himself back from that mind blowing make out session.

“Can I sleep in the van outside tonight?” The kid pops up from the staircase and he’s carrying a bat, with this devious smile plastered on his face.

“Why?”

“You know, kill things.” Mickey isn’t sure if the kids fucking around, but by the look on his face and the fact that he’s carrying a bat, he probably isn’t.

“No dogs or cats,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his eyes widen because is this normal?

“Yeah I know,” Carl says, rolling his eyes, “so that’s a yes.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Awesome.”

The kid turns around and books it down the stairs and Mickey can hear him banging the bat against the wall his whole way down, and then a door slams and it’s quiet.

“Figure as long as he isn’t killing people it’s fine,” Ian says and Mickey just nods because he can’t really argue with that logic.

The red hair girl comes up right after that with the baby and tells Ian she’s going to bed, Ian says he’ll help her put Liam to bed and walks out of the room, leaving Mickey to look around. It seems like a typical room, just like his, some weapons on the floor, ninja throwing stars stuck in the side of the bunk beds, and that’s when he sees a VHS on the top of the dresser next to Ian’s bed.

Mickey reaches up and grabs it, looking to see if it has a title or not. There’s no title. He snickers because that means it’s probably porn, and he can’t wait to make Ian put it on so he can see what type of kinky shit he’s into.

Ian comes back and Mickey simply holds up the video tape, watching Ian’s eyes bug out and yeah, it’s definitely porn.

“Where there’s a VHS player in this house?” Mickey asks, standing up and Ian is already shaking his head no, reaching out and trying to grab it away from him. “What’s the matter? Don’t want me to know what kind of porn you watch?” And Mickey holds the VHS up with both his hands and now Ian’s right in front of him, reaching for it, and Mickey can see his shirt rising up.

“It’s not porn,” Ian says, still reaching and now he has Mickey pinned back against the dresser. “It’s an old family video that’s super embarrassing but Lip keeps it to torture me with.”

“Oh,” and a devious grin widens on Mickey’s face, “we’re definitely watching it now.”

“Mickey, come on, it’s embarrassing,” Ian says, and he stops trying to reach for it.

“Come on man, if you let me see it,” Mickey can’t believe he’s about to say this but, “I’ll blow you.”

Ian’s eyes widen and then Mickey almost feels like maybe he should back out of that offer but Ian nods yes and tells him to come downstairs because that’s where the VCR is. Mickey follows behind him and he’s really hoping that this video is mortifying for Ian because he spoke without thinking and now he’s going to have to suck Ian off.

Not that he doesn’t want to, because he does. But, still, he’s never done it before and he’s nervous as fuck.

They sit down on the couch and Ian switches the tv over to whatever source it needs to be on and grabs the tape, sticking it in and pushing play. Ian sits down next to Mickey and is biting his nails; he looks so nervous and Mickey can’t help but find it cute.

The [video ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUDC4LYyTnA)is all static at first but then it turns on and Ian is standing there, probably six years old, with a snapback turned around on his head and a jersey that reads “hoops.” Mickey has to bite his bottom lip from busting up laughing, and then Ian starts rapping to 50 Cent and Mickey loses it, he’s hunched over laughing and Ian is just glaring at him, face red as a tomato.

“Okay,” Ian says, getting up and shutting it off, “that’s enough.”

“Ian,” Mickey says, but he’s still laughing and Ian sits down next to him, face still redder than red and he looks upset. “Ian, come on,” he pulls Ian into him but he’s still laughing; Ian pulls away. “Ian I’m sorry,” and he finally is able to stop laughing, and Ian huffs. “It’s cute, okay. I just wasn’t expecting that. You could have warned me.”

“Yeah, well,” Ian says, but leans into Mickey’s arms and puts his head on his shoulder, “that’s why I didn’t want to watch it.”

“But hey,” Mickey says, feeling his face getting red now, “at least you’re gonna get a blowjob now.”

“Yeah,” Ian smirks, “that’s true.”

Mickey licks his lips and Ian gets up, pulling him by his hand up the stairs and to his room, shutting the door behind them and then Ian’s on Mickey, hands grabbing at him as their mouths slam together, hot and heavy. Mickey grabs Ian’s ass, and fuck it’s firm, and pulls him in close, feeling his cock against his own, nipping Ian’s bottom lip.

He drops down to his knees and Ian lets out a few curses as Mickey unbuttons his pants, yanking them, along with his underwear, and watching his cock spring out. Mickey takes in one last breath and leans in, licking the tip of Ian’s dick, tasting it in his mouth as he wraps his lips around it completely, moving his head down, gagging half way down.

Mickey sucks hard, working his tongue around the head, grabbing Ian’s bare ass and jerking him forward, as deep into his mouth as he can go; Ian lets out these groans that make Mickey want to do this forever, but his jaw might hate him if he did.

His mouth is open as wide as it can go and he’s bobbing up and down, using one hand to jerk off Ian as his mouth works his head, tasting Ian’s precome, swallowing it down with his cock.

“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian moans, and Mickey reaches around, squeezes Ian’s ass, feeling it tense up, “I’m gonna come.”

Mickey goes down as far as he can, feeling Ian in the back of his throat, his dick getting rock hard as he jerks forward, letting out small groans as he comes down Mickey’s throat. Mickey swallows it all, rubbing his hands up and down Ian’s thighs as he keeps his mouth closed tight around Ian, sucking it all down.

Mickey pulls away and wipes his mouth, letting his jaw relax, because damn his jaw has never been that stretched for that long. No wonder it’s called a job.

“Holy shit,” Ian breathes out, and Mickey looks up at him, nodding. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Good,” Mickey says, standing up and feeling his own cock hard against his jeans, leaking. “I still,” and Mickey points down to his dick.

“Oh, yeah,” Ian says and drops down.

Mickey’s head falls back as Ian sucks his cock, and it doesn’t take long before he’s coming, his whole body tightening and then relaxing, feeling a rush of calm sweep over him, mixed with the best fucking feeling ever.

Ian’s the best head he’s ever had.

They end up lying in Ian’s bed, Mickey lying flat and Ian resting his head on his chest, one leg over Mickey’s and his hand resting on Mickey’s stomach.

“I’m happy,” Mickey says, but it’s more of a question than a statement. “I’m actually happy.”

“Good.”

Mickey has a smile on his face and falls asleep easily with Ian in his arms, feeling Ian’s heart beat against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again my tumblr is mickeymilkovandamn so if you guys wanna talk about this fic or Ian/Mickey come on down!


	5. shit hits the fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey leaves Ian's to go back and make sure everything's okay at his house, oh yeah, and he leaves with a neck full of hickeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Unedited the usual! But this chapter ends up getting really angsty and like some shit happens that is dark and I'm sorry in advance but I had to add in the conflict soon just to boost up for more loving! So don't hate me!

Mickey hears shouting and what sounds like dishes being thrown into a sink and he squints his eyes open, looking around, realizing he’s in Ian’s bed, alone. The sun is creeping in through the cracks in the blinds and Mickey squints, sitting up as he runs his hands through his bed head, looking around for a clock to see what the fuck time it is. Of course, there’s no clock in the room.

He slips on his shoes and walks out of the room, trying not to make any noise because he doesn’t want to walk downstairs while the whole family is there, after coming out of Ian’s bed. It’s going to look like they fucked, and sure technically they kind of did fuck around, but he doesn’t want Ian’s family to think that.

The bathroom is right next to the bedroom so he slips in, closes the door quietly and looks at himself in the mirror. His jaw is a dark purple where his dad’s fists collided, but his face has definitely seen worse. There’s some dried up blood right under his nose and he turns the faucet handle just the slightest, letting the water come out quietly, filling his cupped hands and wiping the blood away. His nose doesn’t even look _that_ bad and he scrunches it up, checking on the pain, and it doesn’t sting like it did last night, just a small ache, nothing horrible. He looks back at the mirror and, holy fuck, his neck is covered in bruises.

Mickey really regrets wasting his scarf to clean the come now.

Small little red and purple welts are around his neck, at least five, and anyone with half a brain knows a hickey when they see one, and Fiona saw him last night, and he didn’t show up with them. Fuck, his eyes dart around the bathroom seeing if there’s anything he can use to cover it up. Nothing but pain pills.

Hopefully Ian has a scarf, otherwise he’s fucked. He knew coming last night was stupid and yet he did it, felt like it could work out somehow and now here he is, the morning after, realizing it probably wasn’t the best idea.

Mickey takes a leak, and doesn’t flush; he doesn’t want them to know he’s awake.

Back in Ian’s room he starts to look around, opens up the drawers as quietly as possible. The first drawer is just underwear and socks and now Mickey knows where Ian keeps his porn. There’s a magazine with naked women on the cover, spreading their legs open and there are tits everywhere, and maybe it isn’t Ian’s.

Mickey opens it up and wow, nevermind, it’s Ian’s. There’s this buff guy, hairy as fuck, bent over a car getting nailed by another huge hairy motherfucker. The guys face is scrunched up in this half pleasure half pain look and Mickey wonders if it actually feels good, if getting fucked is actually pleasurable. He’s never even tried to finger himself; he’s thought about it sure, but never acted on it, but it has to be pleasurable in some aspect, right? Otherwise why would people want it.

Great, he has a hard on now.

He shuts the porn mag and closes the top drawer, opening up the second one and first thing he sees is a blue scarf. Grabbing it without even caring if Ian gets mad, Mickey wraps it around his neck and rushes back to the bathroom, making sure all the hickeys are covered.

Mickey’s tiptoeing down the hallway and he hears that kid, Carl, say, “is Mickey your boyfriend?”

Mickey freezes, his heart plummets to his feet and he stops walking, stops breathing, just listens to see what Ian says.

“Nah, not a chance,” Ian says back, and Mickey can feel his whole body relax. “His dad’s more of a dick than Frank so he crashed out.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Mickey can trust Ian. It’s a great feeling to know Ian keeps his word, isn’t going to out Mickey, even to his family. He feels less anxious about what they’re doing, what they are? Because maybe this, them, isn’t a horrible idea, maybe they’ll just need to be more careful next time, as in no visible hickeys.

Everyone is sitting around the kitchen table when he walks down the stairs; they all turn and stare at him. Ian gives him a genuine smile and Mickey awkwardly nods to them all, not knowing if he should leave.

“We have pancakes,” Fiona says, smiling brightly at him, “fix yourself a plate and eat.”

Mickey nods again and goes into the kitchen, seeing a plate full of pancakes; Ian walks into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, handing him a plate. Mickey only puts two on his plate because this whole situation is making his stomach feel uneasy, like it’s flip flopping all around his insides.

“You good?” Ian asks, and Mickey just grunts as a response, Ian rolling his eyes. “Nice scarf.” Ian snorts and turns away from him, “so, we’ve got orange juice and,” he opens up the fridge and looks inside, “well, just orange juice.”

“I’m fine,” Mickey says, and he can hear himself making his voice sound deeper and he’s not sure why he even did that. “Thanks.”

The table is full of conversation, everyone talking over everyone, and they’re all smiling and acting happy and it’s unsettling.

Ian is sitting next to Mickey and he nudges Mickey’s knee with is own, Mickey feeling his mouth automatically grin, but he bites it back, clearing his throat.

“So,” the red hair girl says, looking at Mickey, “why are you wearing Ian’s scarf?”

“Debbie,” Ian says, glaring at her, “it’s none of your-”

“I get cold easily,” Mickey says, cutting Ian off. “I lost mine the other day and woke up fucking freezing so I grabbed it.”

“Oh,” and she goes back to her food, not really even seeming to care.

No other questions are aimed towards Mickey the rest of the breakfast, just the family talking about random stuff. Apparently, Lip is dating Karen Jackson and no one seems to approve of her at the table; Ian continuously shakes his head every time her name is brought up and Mickey simply keeps quiet, thanking Fiona for the pancakes at the end and Ian gestures for him to come upstairs. He follows.

“I am so sorry,” Ian says as soon as they are up in his room alone. “I had no idea I even sucked that hard on your neck.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, crossing his arms. “Next time contain yourself, Gallagher.”

“Next time?” And now Ian has this shitty grin and Mickey can’t help but smile too, feeling his cheeks getting hot because he’s never really felt like this before. Ian somehow makes his palms get sweaty and his cheeks get hot and he even finds himself the slightest nervous around him, it’s unusual. “So, this isn’t just a one time thing then.”

“Shut up,” Mickey nudges Ian’s shoulder with his fists, and Ian shoves him back.

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah.” And okay, this is too much talking about feelings and what they are and Mickey clears his throat, wiping the grin off his face and squinting his eyes into a glare. “But seriously, no fucking visible hickeys. Ever again.”

“I can do that.”

Ian closes the door and before Mickey can react Ian is on him, pinning him against the bunk bed, smashing their lips together, rough and needy.

“Your family,” he lets out breathlessly, feeling Ian pull his shirt down and start to suck on his collarbone. “Fuck.”

“They won’t bother,” Ian says, pulling away, wetting his lips before going back and sucking some more, nipping. “Just one that’s not visible.”

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groans, leaning his head back and feeling Ian’s mouth hot on his chest, his teeth biting at his skin, his tongue working all around, making Mickey want it all.

And just as quick as it started, Ian pulls away, his tongue running over his bottom lip and he’s grinning and Mickey feels empty without his mouth on him, without Ian against his body. His heart is beating against his chest and Mickey thinks it’s going to leave a bruise, but it’s a good feeling.

Mickey likes Ian, a lot.

“There,” Ian says, opening up the door and walking out. “Not visible.”

“I should go home,” Mickey says, following Ian down the stairs into the living room; the family is all sitting on the couch watching what looks like Animal Planet. “See if Mandy came home or if Terry is,” Mickey let’s out a sigh. “Just you know.”

“Yeah,” Ian nods, and he walks Mickey to the front door, leaning on the frame as Mickey walks out, thankful for the scarf now more than ever because it’s chilly out. “Remember what I said. You ever need to get away from Terry.”

“I know,” Mickey calls as he hops down the stairs; Frank isn’t in the grass anymore.

Mickey doesn’t look back, it’ll seem a little too desperate or maybe just a little too like they’re in a relationship. Either way, it’s not how he wants to come off.

He opens up his front door and walks into the house, holding his breath and listening for his dad. Nothing.

“Pops?” Mickey calls out, closing the door behind him. “You home?”

The kitchen is still a mess; one of the chairs is knocked over on the floor, the table has plates left on it with mac and cheese, the pot still on the stove. There’s blood on the floor also and Mickey shakes his head, because coming from the Gallagher’s house to this feels like a blow to the gut.

There’s a rag on the counter and Mickey runs it under the sink, ringing it out so it’s not dripping wet and get’s on his hands and knees, scrubbing the blood away. It’s not a lot, but there are dried up droplets sprayed across the floor, along with a small little pool of blood where Gian had been laying when Mickey came in last night. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever cleaned up blood in his house either, because that’s pretty normal with his dad, just usually it isn’t a strangers.

Usually it’s his.

Mickey throws the rag into the sink, rinsing the blood off his hands and stops, listening to see if maybe he can hear his dad, even if it’s just snoring. Nothing. It’s silent in the house and nothing about it feels fine and his gut is telling him to leave, to get the hell out and not walk any further into the house, but he isn’t listening.

“Pops?” Mickey calls out, walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway; his bedroom door is open and the light is on in his room and now his stomach is twisting inside him. “Terry?”

“Is that you,” Terry’s voice reverberates from inside Mickey’s room, his words slurred and slow, and Mickey takes the last few steps, standing in the door frame now, seeing his room tore to shreds: his mattress flipped over leaning against the wall, his drawers all opened and papers, along with all his weapons (a metal bat, some brass knuckles and a pistol) covering the floor of his room and his dad is sitting down in the middle of it all, leaning on one of his arms and looking up at Mickey, eyes glossed over and his face has this vindictive evil glare to it.

“What the…” but before Mickey can finish he sees what’s in his dad’s hand, crumpled. Mickey can feel his heart stop beating, his breathing stops working and the knots in his stomach make him want to puke.

In his dad’s hand is the only shred of evidence in his house that he’s gay. The only thing he’s ever kept hidden; a picture of some guy jerking off that he had found in an alleyway one night. He kept it under his mattress, because when the fuck is anyone going to go look through it, not to mention he had it hidden in an envelope so it wouldn’t stick out.

And yet here he is, seeing the picture crumpled in his dad’s hand, and he can literally feel the ground moving beneath him, and his life caving in on itself.

“You fucking faggot,” his dad pushes himself up, throwing the paper at Mickey, and Mickey can’t seem to move, can’t seem to do much of anything. He feels numb, as if this has to be some sick sort of nightmare, but his dad is inching closer to him, and he’s screaming now, calling Mickey every fucked up term her can come up with for being gay and Mickey’s taking it, because he knows there’s nothing else he can do.

The lowest thing in the world to his father is being gay; his dad has told him multiple times he’d rather Mickey be dead than gay, in fact his dad has always been sort of hell bent on making that a prominent point because maybe all along his dad knew he was gay, and knew this day would come and was trying his best in his own fucked up way to avoid it. Scare Mickey so bad that he would never come out, never subject his dad to this; or maybe his dad is just a piece of shit homophobic asshole who really would rather Mickey be dead.

Mickey doesn’t know which reason it is, but he does know his dad hates gays.

“Fucking fudge packing piece of shit cock sucking,” his dad doesn’t seem to be slowing down and now he’s almost to Mickey and it somehow makes him snap back into reality, realize this isn’t some fucked up dream and his dad may in fact kill him.

Too late.

Mickey goes to run but Terry picks up the pistol off the floor and Mickey hears a bang pop off before there’s a sharp pain shooting into his arm, causing him to fall face first on the floor, his already fucked up nose collides into the wood and he can taste blood now. The pain in his arm is hot and he grinds his teeth together, sitting up against the wall and seeing the side of his right arm, a bleeding hole. Bullet must have gone straight through.

“I’m gonna fucking-” Terry’s threat is silenced when he loses his balance, falls forward, dropping the gun on the process and hitting himself against Mickey’s door, then into the frame and finally colliding down on the floor right by Mickey.

“Fuck,” Mickey groans, feeling his eyes welling up, the warm blood all over his hand which is now holding his arm, trying to apply pressure. “Fuck!”

Mickey pushes his back against the wall and uses it to push himself up, spitting out blood that is dripping from his nose into his mouth, and his nose is causing just as much pain as his gunshot. He rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the wall and calling the cops; he knows ratting out family isn’t okay, but he also isn’t going to die because Terry’s a fucking psychopath.

Mickey sits down, taking the scarf off of his neck and wrapping it as tight as he can on his arm, watching the dark red blood seep into the fabric and spread around. He grabs a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and holds it up to his nose, wincing at the shock from the coldness and the pain coursing over his face.

His heart isn’t slowing down, and his leg won’t stay still, bouncing up and down in nerves, listening to see if his dad gets up while he waits for the cops. They show up pretty quickly, probably because they’ve been to his house a million other times.

“He’s in the hallway,” Mickey says, as the police go to get his dad; the paramedics coming in after to take him to the hospital.

It’s all so dramatic and surreal and somehow Mickey still thinks he’s going to wake up, that this is all going to be some insane nightmare and that his dad didn’t just shoot him because he found gay porn in his room, but as he walks outside and sees the flashing lights from the cop cars, the ambulance and all the neighbors watching, he knows he’s awake.

“Mickey!” Ian comes rushing up, his eyes wide as saucers and his cheeks flushed and he looks so worried that Mickey can’t help but smirk. “Oh my God! Are you...is this?”

“Gallagher,” Mickey says, tasting blood when he opens his mouth. “I’m good.”

“I’m coming to the hospital.”

Before Mickey can argue, say anything, Ian is running back to his house, probably to tell his family where he’s going to be and Mickey is being sat in the back of an ambulance, somehow smiling because of Ian.

-

After a few stitches and a nose cast, which he is going to take off the minute he is out of the hospital, Mickey is good to go, or at least the doctors are done with him. Now he’s sitting on the uncomfortable sky blue padded chairs in the waiting room because Ian hasn’t come yet and he doesn’t want to leave knowing Ian said he’d come.

And just like that Ian comes rushing into the waiting room, eyes frantically looking around until they land on Mickey and his posture, his facial expression and his whole body relaxes; he still runs over though, out of breath, and sits down next to Mickey, putting his hand out and resting it under Mickey’s chin, looking over his face.

“This is because,” Ian says, his voice choking off, and his eye’s look bloodshot, puffy and he’s definitely been crying the whole way here.

“Nah,” Mickey says, already knowing Ian is blaming himself for giving the hickeys. “He didn’t even see the hickeys.”

“Then why?”

“A picture of some dude jerking it under my bed,” Mickey says, snorting out a laugh because really, after he’s been fucking around with Ian, coming back with hickeys, his dad shoots him because of some gay picture hidden under his bed. It’s a joke.

“He did this,” Ian’s hands gesture up and down, “because of _one_ picture.”

“I told you. He’ll kill me.” Mickey gnaws at his lower lip, shaking his head and letting out a sigh. “At least he broke his parole. He’s gonna be in jail for a long time. Not to mention the gun was illegal and on the way here I told the guys in the ambulance it was Terry’s.”

“Smart thinking,” Ian says, his voice sounding broken and his gaze turned down.

“Ian. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” but Ian doesn’t look up.

They leave, Ian looking like he’s on the verge of a breakdown at any minute and Mickey just happy to be alive, happy his dad is going to be gone for a while and happy that he’s with Ian, even if it’s all under the grimmest of circumstances.

“Can I stay at yours again?” Mickey asks, walking next to Ian who hasn’t said a word since they left.

“Of course,” Ian says, stopping dead in his tracks and looking Mickey in the eyes, “don’t ever ask again, okay?”

“Ian, I’m not just gonna show up like I fucking live there.”

“Well you can. I’m just,” Ian starts walking again and Mickey follows along. “It’s bullshit. You’re dad fucking tries and kill you and it’s all just fucked up.”

“But don’t forget,” Mickey smirks, nudging Ian, “not because of the giant hickeys I got from a gay hookup. No. A fucking picture under my fucking bed.”

Mickey starts to laugh and Ian smirks, shaking his head and then he starts to laugh too. Hearing Ian laugh, and knowing that Ian’s okay, makes everything somehow all right.

“So does this mean you’re not gonna be able to jerk off,” Ian asks, pointing to Mickey’s arm. “Since it’s your right arm and all.”

“Fuck off, Gallagher.”

“I’m just saying, you might need help.”

“Oh,” Mickey says, his eyebrows raising and Ian gives him a quick wink. “Good thing you have a working arm and mouth.”

“Oh you have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean now that Terry's gone there can only be sexy time and love so don't hate me for this chapter! More to come!


	6. i love...this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's arm is healed and his nose doesn't hurt anymore so dick sucking it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay let me just say that this is a filler chapter because I'm shifting gears to start moving this story on to the final chapters!! Unedited as always! Sorry for not updating last night! I was going to maybe add more onto this but decided against it for some reasons which I won't get into. Anyways! Hope you guys enjoy! :)

Mickey’s sipping on a cup of coffee, black, and rubbing his right arm which is almost healed, not quite but it’s no longer this bloody hole. He’s been spending a lot of time at Ians, actually almost every night. The only night he hadn’t was when Mandy finally came back from Gian’s. That was a rough night. Explaining to her why his dad went off on him, but she didn’t hate him or even make jokes, she just hugged him, told him she was glad he was okay and that she didn’t care if he was gay.

It was a huge relief off his shoulders.

She’s been spending most of her time at Gian’s, although sometimes they come over and stay at their house; the whole atmosphere has toned down since Terry got locked up, calmer, more happy? Although, Mickey wouldn’t call it happy, but he definitely doesn’t walk around on eggshells anymore, fearful that Terry will have some insane rage and try and kill him and Mandy.

Ian’s family has been really chill about it all, not really making comments on it, welcoming him in as if he is one of their own. Maybe Ian talked to them about it, told them to be accepting, or maybe that’s just how they are, caring for family and shit. The Gallaghers have this weird aura about them and Mickey doesn’t understand it. How can a family with so many fucked up things be so positive in the face of it all? Somehow they do and it usually involves them being together, eating dinner together, watching tv together, celebrating things together.

Family really seems to matter to them, and Mickey’s never had that, never even realized that anyone can have a normalish family. At least no one on the south side that is. Sure, those white bread happy middle class families seem perfect and loving and it’s gross, and yet, with the Gallaghers, Mickey likes it. They care for each other in a way Mickey’s never seen, or felt.

Ian walks down the stairs, only in boxers, and Mickey looks him up and down, not worrying about what anyone will think. Everyone else in the house is gone at school and work, so he can stare all he fucking wants, and he _wants_.

Ian’s abs are fucking amazing, Mickey never knew he could be this attracted to muscles but goddamn does Ian make him attracted to every muscle on his body. Ian has this perfect v shape leading down his waist and Mickey wants to just lick all the way down until he’s sucking Ian’s cock.

“Morning,” Ian says, stretching his arms up and leaning back and he’s got to be doing this just to get Mickey excited because he chokes on his coffee and Ian laughs, walking over and sitting down next to him, legs spread open wide. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Mickey coughs out, licking his bottom lip and smiling, “fucking peachy.”

“Good,” Ian smirks, rubbing his hand down his chest and patting his stomach, and Mickey leans forward in his seat without even realizing. “Your nose almost healed?”

“I think it is,” Mickey says, and his voice comes out strained, his eyes focusing on Ian’s lap, and the visible hard on that Mickey can see. “I mean, we can always test it.”

“Oh yeah,” Ian says, and Mickey can see his dick twitch in his boxers, “how?”

Mickey kicks the chair back and it screeches loudly on the tile but he doesn’t care, all he wants is Ian. He can’t get down on his knees fast enough, in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a bruise on both of them later on, but it will be worth it.

Mickey looks up at Ian, his face in between his legs, his mouth touching the tip of Ian’s cock in his boxers.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” Mickey breathes out, rubbing both his hands up Ian’s thighs, watching Ian nod and bite at his lower lip.

“My arm and jaw could use a break,” Ian jokes, and Mickey shakes his head, reaching the band of Ian’s boxers and pulling them down, his dick springing free and slapping against his stomach.

Ian’s already leaking and Mickey licks it off before closing his mouth around Ian’s head, sucking tight as he moves down, hearing Ian groan as he fits Ian’s whole cock in his mouth.

Mickey wanted this, missed it even, and now he’s healed enough to where he can finally get Ian off, with more than just his left hand, which he knows isn’t the best. His right hand is palming at his own cock in his sweatpants, while Ian grips the back of his head and pushes him down, jerking forward into his mouth; it’s fucking hot as hell.

“Just like that,” Ian says, tightening his grip on Mickey’s hair, “fuck.”

Mickey takes his other hand and rubs Ian’s balls, moving his mouth down until he’s sucking on them, fitting both in his mouth and jerking Ian off at the same time, listening to Ian curse as his feet tighten and he breathes out, hitched. He yanks his sweats down just enough to stroke himself, slick his own dick up with the precome, and fuck, it feels great.

Ian keeps jerking into his mouth, holding the back of his head, face fucking him, but Mickey isn’t complaining and with each jerk Ian does, Mickey’s dick feels like it’s getting more and more hard in his hand.

The kitchen door slams open and Mickey can feel his whole body tense up and he falls back, yanking up his sweatpants; his hard on is already gone, as Karen and Lip come fumbling in, kissing and groping, not even noticing Mickey on his knees in front of naked ass Ian. Or at least they didn’t but now both Lip and Karen are looking at Mickey and his cheeks are burning, his heart is pounding and he feels like he may throw up.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Ian starts, pulling up his boxers as Mickey hops to his feet, frantic.

“Oh my God,” Karen says, her mouth going from gaped open to a sly smile. “So, you’re gay, Mickey? Never would have thought it.”

“I’m not,” Mickey breathes out, running his hands through his hair, feeling his stomach twisted in knots. “Fuck. Listen, don’t fucking tell anyone, okay?”

“I won’t,” she says, but she’s still smiling and Mickey wants to bitch slap that fucking smile right off her face. That’s the smile of a lying bitch and Mickey knows it, but he isn’t going to hit her, she’s a girl after all and Mickey isn’t a complete delinquent. “So,” she twirls her blond hair around her index finger and raises her eyebrows, “who bottoms?”

“Karen!” Lip coughs, yanking her by her hand and moving towards the stairs. “Well, this was uncomfortable. Catch you guys later.”

Karen runs up the stairs with Lip, giggling and then Mickey can hear them kissing and most likely Karen getting slammed up against the wall as Lip fucks her.

Mickey’s heart is still pounding and he still feels like he might puke, but Ian doesn’t look so worried, in fact, he looks pretty fine for someone who just had their brother walk in on them getting head.

“Fuck,” Mickey starts pacing, “people can’t think I’m gay.”

“Calm down, Mick,” Ian says, standing up and pulling Mickey towards him, putting his hands on Mickey’s hips so that they’re face to face. “Don’t worry, okay,” Ian kisses him, but Mickey doesn’t kiss back, he just let’s Ian do it before he pulls his face away. “Mickey, look at me. If it gets out, no one will care.”

“How can you say that?” Mickey says, trying to pull away but Ian has his grip firm on his waist, not letting him get away. “Look at the neighborhood we live in, Ian.”

“Yeah and?”

“You’re fucking joking right?” Mickey shakes his head, and can feel his face getting hot with anger. And? Really? That’s what Ian is going to say to him about this, about people finding out he’s a closet case who sucks dick. People will beat the shit out of him, maybe even kill him, who knows, but he sure as fuck knows that ‘and’ isn’t the appropriate reaction.

“Mick,” Ian says, his voice so calm and he has this really small smile, not some type of smirk as if he’s making fun of Mickey or being condescending, no, a sincere grin that makes all Mickey’s anger somehow leave. Mickey hates that Ian is able to do that. “The only people who will gay bash are, well, the Milkovich’s.”

Mickey’s whole face kind of melts and he feels simultaneously relieved and amused but he also feels like shit, because that means Ian used to be afraid of him, used to think he would jump him for being gay, and that hurts. Yeah, Mickey knows he can be a piece of shit asshole who beats on people, but he never wants Ian to be afraid of him, at least not now that he likes Ian.

“Oh,” Mickey says, his voice strained, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ian says, still wearing that cute smile that Mickey wants to kiss now more than anything. “I’m just saying, no one will actually care. People talk about me being gay, sure, but mainly all it’s done for me is get me hook ups.”

Mickey can feel his eyebrows shoot high up on his face and somehow he feels jealous because other people have gotten with Ian; he wants to ask how many hook ups, how far they’ve gotten during said hook ups, but he doesn’t want to seem like a jealous boyfriend. Boyfriend? He doesn’t even know if that’s what he and Ian are.

“Just making out here and there,” Ian laughs, and Mickey can feel his face flush because that means Ian could tell he wanted to know and that’s embarrassing as fuck. “Point being, no one has ever tried and picked a fight with me, or has ever done shit to me.”

“Yeah?” Mickey says, feeling his own mouth form into a grin.

“Yeah.”

Mickey leans forward, soft and caring, one hand underneath Ian’s chin, the other firm against Ian’s lower back, pulling him in and kissing him. Mickey’s eyes close and flutter as their lips connect, no tongue, no frantic needing in this kiss, just them, together. The world fades into blackness around Mickey and all that matters is being in Ian’s arms, all that matters in that Ian isn’t afraid of him. All that truly matters is that he’s happy being gay as fuck with Ian.

Mickey pulls away and rubs his thumb along Ian’s bottom lip, smiling, “I love…” he begins and realizes what he is about to say, “this,” he catches himself.

“Yeah?” Ian teases, pulling Mickey back in for another kiss, and Mickey folds into Ian, wraps his arms around him and can feel Ian’s heart beat against him, fast. “I love this too,” he says, his lips still against Mickey’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so my tumblr is mickeymilkovandamn now if anyone want to talk about stuff or heckle me for an update! Also, I'm going to a con this weekend so I won't have an update until after that so I feel kind of bad leaving on such a short chapter but that's the reason I ended it on a sweet note so it wouldn't be some cliffhanger type Terry shooting Mickey shit~*~*~*~


	7. finger work out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiona makes Ian go back to school and Mickey reluctantly goes also.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited as usual! Oh my God okay listen I am so sorry it's been almost a week and a half since my last update!! The convention I went to was just me drunk from Thur-Mon and then back to work and school and basically I finally just got the time to finish this chapter!! There's going to be probably 2 or 3 more chapters I think so hope you guys are still enjoying!! :))

“School,” Fiona says, mixing eggs on the stove, “you’re going.”

“Fiona,” Ian sighs, looking to Mickey, who’s sitting across from him at the table, and giving him a wink, “come on.”

“No. I’ve let you have your time off for Mickey and everything that happened but you’re going. Ian, you and Lip need to graduate, okay? You’re a junior. This is your most important year.”

“How about one more-”

“School, Ian.”

Mickey snorts and Ian kicks him under the table; he still snickers and kicks Ian right back, winking at him. Ian rolls his eyes and goes back to trying to convince Fiona to let him miss just one more day to no avail.

Mickey’s been spending every day with Ian so he’s not really sure what he’s going to do while Ian’s at school. Maybe he can go back under the bleachers and chill and do what he was doing before he met Ian and started liking him. Although, Mickey isn’t even sure what he’s feeling because every time he’s with Ian, he’s overly happy and nervous and it’s all fucking weird. There’s no way it can be love, because people don’t fall in love that fast, they can’t.

“You’re going,” Ian says, knocking Mickey out of his thought process.

“Where?” Mickey asks, taking a gulp of his orange juice and purposefully making some drip on his lower lip so he can lick it off, slowly.

“School, where else?” Ian deadpans.

“No fucking way,” Mickey says, “Fiona’s your sister, not mine. No one in my family expects me to live till twenty one let alone graduate.”

“Mick, come on. It’ll be fun. Catch up on all the latest stories.”

“No.”

Mickey gets up and brings his dishes with him, eliciting a smile from Fiona as he rinses them off in the sink. He figures the least her can do is clean up after himself, with Fiona letting him stay and all.

The other night, Mickey had told Fiona that he was thankful for all she’s done, although, he did it when no one was awake so no one would hear him. She smiled and gave him a hug and he was stiff as her arms wrapped around him but he relaxed and hugged her back, feeling somehow loved? It was all so weird that he ended it quicker than it began by clearing his throat and walking back upstairs, but he was happy it happened, still is.

As he’s walking out of the kitchen he lifts his arm and sniffs his armpit; he needs a shower. Mickey hops up the stairs, skipping every other one and goes into Ian’s room, where the bag of clothes he brought from his house is lying, and digs through, smelling them to see if they’re clean enough to wear. Most are, so he grabs jeans, boxers and a shirt and heads off to the bathroom to shower.

The water pressure at the Gallaghers isn’t the best, but he isn’t complaining, because the water heater works, so even though it’s not massaging his back, it’s still warm as fuck. Mickey closes his eyes and rubs the bar of soap all over, feeling his muscles relax as the steam rises around him. It feels fucking fantastic.

Mickey hears the bathroom door open, because almost every door in this house creaks, making it easy to know when someone is trying to sneak in.

“Hey!” Mickey shouts over the water, “I’m fucking showering.”

The door closes and Mickey figures whoever it was left so he goes back to scrubbing, running the soap down his chest, over his stomach until he’s rubbing his dick, and it’s half hard now. He can’t help it.

One of his hands is gently rubbing his balls while the other slides down his cock, making him let out a soft moan just as the shower curtain flings open. Mickey covers himself instantly and goes to pull the curtain shut when he realizes that Ian is standing in front of him, naked.

“What the fuck,” Mickey says, letting his guard down and dropping his hands from in front of himself, letting Ian get a good look.

“I have to shower since I’m going to school,” Ian says, hopping into the shower. “Let me get some water you hog.”

Mickey scoots over and lets Ian in front, watching the water hit his hair and drip down his back, in between the dimples right above his ass and holy fuck, Ian has the plumpest little ass Mickey has ever seen. Ian runs his hands through his hair and turns around, facing Mickey now, and Mickey can see that Ian’s hard now too.

“So you’re not gonna _come_ to school,” Ian says, and Mickey can hear the emphasis on the word come.

“No,” Mickey gulps, taking the hand that has the soap in it and rubbing it on Ian’s chest, moving in closer until their cocks are touching.

“You sure?” Ian asks, moving forward and backing Mickey up against the wall at the end of the shower, leaning in until their lips are touching. “I’d make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey says, and he can feel his dick twitching, hard against Ian’s, can feel Ian’s slicked up soapy chest against his and he wants nothing more than to fuck Ian right now, in the shower.

Mickey grabs Ian’s shoulder and spins him around so that Ian’s face is against the wall and his ass is aimed out towards Mickey’s cock.

“Yeah,” Ian groans, his legs spread apart and Mickey’s dick is only inches away from his ass, and he wants to fuck him raw, make him whimper under his touch, but he doesn’t know if that’s what Ian wants.

“How would it be worth my time?” Mickey leans in and closes his mouth over Ian’s earlobe, nipping it and breathing out, feeling Ian shake underneath him.

“You could,” Ian says, backing his ass up until it’s against Mickey’s cock, “have me anyway.”

Mickey bites his knuckle and looks down, his cock red and hard pushed against Ian’s ass cheeks. He decides to go with it and grabs his dick, moving it so that the tip is against Ian’s hole, rubbing it up and down, hearing Ian’s small words of approval as he backs up into it. Mickey’s not fucking him, not even close, so how is it that just rubbing his dick against Ian’s hole is already making him want to come?

“Fuck,” Mickey curses, flipping Ian around, smashing his lips against Ian’s, his hand gripping the nape of Ian’s neck, pulling him in as close as physically possible. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” Ian says, biting Mickey’s bottom lip harshly, and Mickey can feel Ian’s shit grin against his lips. “If you want this all,” Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and places it on his ass, pushing Mickey’s finger against his hole. Mickey lets out a strangled breath as his finger pushes in Ian, tight and warm. Ian back against it, his breath hot on Mickey’s face. “Then you better come to school.”

Ian pulls away quickly and pushes Mickey under the water, laughing. Mickey flips Ian off and turns around, letting the water run over his face; not a second later he feels Ian against his back, his lips on his neck, and his hands on Mickey’s shoulders.

“Don’t hate me,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel Ian’s dick hard against his ass, and he isn’t sure if he wants to back into it, wants to feel it against his hole, because he’s never done that before, even really thought of that before.

Mickey always assumed he’d be the one fucking, because the thought of getting fucked scares him. A cock shoved in his ass just sounds so fucking painful, but then again every porn he’s ever seen, the guy getting pounded always looks like they’re enjoying it. So maybe he will too?

“I don’t,” Mickey says, backing up just the slightest, not even sure if it’s enough to make it noticed.

“Good.” Ian kisses down his neck onto his shoulder and bites, his hand moving down Mickey’s back until it’s at the base of his back, right above his ass. “Do you?”

“I’ve never,” Mickey says, feeling his voice get caught in his throat.

“I’m not gonna do it if you don’t want,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel his shoulders relax and sink in, not even knowing he was that tense.

“Okay.”

Mickey backs up, this time making it known, and Ian moves his hand down in response. Mickey can feel Ian’s finger against his hole, and it feels strange. Not bad, but different. It’s slicked up with soap and Ian run his finger up and down, pushing it against Mickey’s hole, and Mickey can feel it as it slips in, and he let’s out a groan.

It’s not that it hurts, but it also isn’t this amazing orgasmic feeling that the people in the pornos seem to make it out to be. Ian’s index finger moves in a little further until his knuckles are against Mickey’s ass, and Mickey catches his breath, feeling Ian’s finger inside him, rubbing against him.

Mickey grabs his dick and starts to stroke it, letting himself relax as Ian’s finger works inside him, moving, until Mickey suddenly sees why the people in the pornos make that face because whatever the fuck Ian just hit feels fucking great. Mickey curses and backs into it, gripping his cock tighter as he starts to rub himself off faster.

“Feels good?” Ian asks, twisting his finger in Mickey, making him nod his head in response, pushing his ass as far onto Ian as he can.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey says, feeling his cock getting harder, his body tensing up and his ass tightening around Ian’s finger as he comes.

And holy fuck does he come, his whole body seizing up as he shoots out onto the shower floor, feeling Ian inside him, his eyes rolling back because that was by far the best orgasm Mickey has ever had. His arm drops down to his side and Ian pulls out; Mickey leaning his forehead against the wall, letting the water wash down his back.

“That was fucking amazing,” Mickey pants out, turning around and seeing Ian bite his lower lip, a smile on his face.

“I’m glad,” Ian says, moving in and kissing Mickey. “There will be plenty more of that,” he pulls away, patting Mickey’s shoulders, “if you go to school.”

“Fine.”

They finish showering quickly, although, the whole sex in the shower thing took up a long time so Mickey’s almost positive the entire house knows what went on. And yet, somehow, that doesn’t phase him? They already know, or at least have an idea, and they still let him in, let him stay here. They just don’t care.

When they’re dressed and ready to go Fiona is standing by the front door, making sure Liam is okay and that Debbie and Carl have their lunches. She looks at both of them and raises an eyebrow, and even though Mickey doesn’t care that she knows, he can still feel his cheeks getting hot from embarrassment.

“Ian, you better go to school,” Fiona says, and then she turns and looks at Mickey. “You too, Mickey. You both need to get an education. Make something of your lives. Okay?”

“I will,” Mickey says, and he feels like he owes it to Fiona to go, because she’s taking care of everyone and letting him stay and all she wants is for him to go to school. Although, school is hell on earth and he’s failing all his classes so there really is no point, but he figures he can go for the time being just to make Fiona happy.

“And stop fucking in the shower,” she says as they walk out, making Mickey choke on his spit and Ian’s face beam tomato red. “We don’t need the water bill any higher than it is.”

Ian is quiet most of the way and Mickey is fine with that, at first. But then his mind starts to wonder as to why he’s being so silent and he instantly attributes it to the fingering. Mickey doesn’t want to make Ian awkward or uncomfortable or anything, and he feels his heart racing in his chest, because he’s worried Ian’s upset. Mickey feels dumb as fuck for worrying about this because that’s what girls do in relationships, but he can’t help it, he wants to know.

“You okay?” Mickey asks, rubbing his hands together trying to make them warm.

“Yeah,” Ian says, turning and smiling.

“Your sister knowing and what happened in the shower,” Mickey let’s out a sigh, “didn’t freak you out, did it?”

“What? No!” Ian exclaims. “You?”

“Nope,” Mickey says, gnawing at his lower lip. “But just because I let you finger me,” he whispers, “doesn’t make me a bitch.”

“Mick,” Ian deadpans, “I could fuck you raw and you would never be a bitch.”

“Good.”

Mickey can’t seem to hide this stupid grin on his face the rest of the way to school. Ian can’t either, and Mickey decides if anyone asks why he’s smiling like a goddamn fool, he’ll say he smoked a bowl before class. That’ll be believable enough.

The bell rings right when they walk up to the front of school and Mickey realizes he’s going to have to say bye to Ian and go to class by himself, which sucks. He nods his head to Ian and Ian nods back, giving him a wink as he walks away, making Mickey feel good, like they have their own secret that no one else is in on.

His first class is Pre-Algebra, because he’s consistently failed that course since junior high. What the hell is he going to know what x equals in real life? Nothing.

Mickey sits down at the seat in the corner of the room, furthest from the teacher and spreads his legs out, arms crossed and he sits and sees people looking back at him, turning around and whispering. He wants to get up and leave, hell, fuck them all up, but there’s no point. They’re probably just whispering about how they haven’t seen him all year, nothing else.

“Mr. Milkovich,” his teacher, Mr. Proctor, says. “Nice of you to stop in.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, glaring at the bald old ass man standing in the front of the classroom. “Figured I could use some math to figure out how old you are and why you haven’t retired yet.”

“I will not have you coming into my class and disrupting,” he says, as his face gets red.

“Calm down. I won’t interrupt your important lesson.”

Mickey smirks as his teacher turns around, obviously flustered, and starts to write on the board. All Mickey can see if just a bunch of numbers over each other and letter and it looks like he’s in the matrix or something. Mr. Proctor stops to ask the class about what x equals and they all say it at the same time in the same bored ass monotone voice and Mickey cringes.

He remembers now why he never shows up to school.

“Hey,” the girl next to him whispers, tapping her finger on his desk.

“What?” he says, a bit of an annoyed tone in his voice; and it’s not that he wants to be a dick or anything, he just doesn’t want to talk.

“Is it true?”

“Is _what_ true?”

“About you being gay? Everyone’s saying it.”

Mickey can feel his heart plummet down into his stomach, making him want to puke. His breath gets caught in his chest and he has to force himself to not breathe out heavily, making it known.

“Who the fuck is saying that?” He can hear his voice, hear the fear in it, and really hopes that all she can hear is anger.

“Karen Jackson,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “Just wanted to know.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything back, he just sits in his chair, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of his desk, his leg tapping up and down vigorously. He can feel her eyes on him, watching him, and it’s taking all his energy not to flip the desk over and scream at the top of his lungs, beat the shit out of every kid talking about him, but he knows he can’t.

Well he can, but there will be no point, because the rumor is out there, and now all he can do is pray people don’t believe it or spread it. But he knows that’s wishful thinking.

“Mickey,” the girls says, but he doesn’t look. “Hey, listen, no one cares. I mean, everyone who’s talking about it just thinks it’s crazy but no one actually gives a fuck.” Mickey keeps his gaze forward, watching the teacher scribble on the board; he can feel her eyes still glued to him. “There’s a gay straight alliance club here, dude. No one cares.”

“Well I do,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip until he can taste blood.

“I get that.” Mickey finally looks up; she pushes her brown hair behind her ears and gives him a half smile. “I was nervous when I came out too.”

The bell rings and she gets out of the chair and bolts out of the room, leaving Mickey in the corner trying to figure out what he’s going to do. There’s no way he can last the whole day, let alone another period. What she said might be true, maybe no one gives a shit, but he doesn’t want to stay around and find out. Or better yet, he can’t. The thought alone scares him. People now know he’s gay, probably know who he’s fucking, and sooner or later everyone will know and no one is going to treat him the same, probably treat him like a bitch.

He’s not a bitch.

Mickey gets up and rushes through the hallways, feeling as if everyone and their fucking mothers are staring at him, talking about him. He flings open the double door and makes his way out into the crisp air, quickly making his way across the field and going to his safe zone, his spot.

It’s empty like always and he squats down, catching his breath, letting it all sink in. Karen Jackson told what she saw, okay, he can easily tell people she’s a fucking liar. But he’s seen shit like this happen before, something comes out about someone and they try desperately to reverse it, just making the rumor even more valid.

So no, he can’t go around and say anything. He can ignore it, act like it does not phase him, and if anyone tries anything beat the living shit out of them so they know he’s still no one to fuck with. That seems like the best option, the most realistic option given this situation.

“Mick,” a voice calls from the other end of the bleachers, and Mickey recognizes it as soon as he hears it, Ian.

“Hey, Gallagher,” Mickey says, “couldn’t last a day either, huh?”

“I heard what happened,” Ian says, sitting down next to him, putting his arm over Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey doesn’t pull away, instead he rests his head on Ian’s shoulder. “Fucking Karen. That bitch.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, sighing into Ian.

“I figured you’d be here. You okay?”

“I’m okay now,” he admits, and Ian squeezes Mickey shoulder, nudging into him. “I freaked out at first, not gonna lie. But I figure with Terry gone, I should be okay. I hope.”

“You’ll be more than okay,” Ian leans in and gives him a quick peck, and Mickey can’t help but smile. “You got me.”

“Well in that case,” Mickey says, leaning in until their lips are just barely touching. “I’ll be great.”

Ian pushes their lips together and Mickey melts into it, feeling Ian’s arms around him, his mouth soft against his own and it all feels okay. As if people knowing isn’t a bad thing, but maybe a good thing? Maybe now he can just be happy, with Ian, in public and not give a fuck what anyone thinks, says.

Although, he isn’t to that point yet, definitely not. But right now, being in Ian’s arms, kissing him without fear, makes him think that maybe some day he’ll be good enough to do this. Be open with Ian.

“Let’s go home,” Ian says, and Mickey nods his head, standing up and interlacing his fingers with Ian’s, feeling super gay but at the same time super happy.

“Once we’re out from behind the bleachers we’re not holding hands,” Mickey says.

“I figured,” Ian says, knocking his shoulder into Mickey and laughing. “Baby steps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can come talk to me about it or whatever mickeymilkovandamn.tumblr.com :)


	8. aint nobody fucking with my clique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian go back to Ian's house after finding out what Karen did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!! So, my friend Amy actually edited most of this chapter! But then I wrote the last little bit before she could and imma post it now because ~*~*~update~*~*~ but anyways there is only going to be one more chapter after this so!!! Hope you guys enjoy!! :)

“So,” Ian says, sitting next to Mickey on the front porch of the Gallagher’s house. “You wanna smoke a bowl and forget about school?”

“Sure,” Mickey says, letting out a deep sigh and shaking his head. “I still can’t believe it got around that fucking quick, like do people have nothing better to do?”

“Not really.” Ian laughs, nudging Mickey with his shoulder. “Imma go get my pipe and weed. Be right back.”

Mickey nods and Ian hops up, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Mickey outside in the cold to think. His thoughts are everywhere, but the one that he can’t seem to shake out of his mind is how he feels for Ian, how he wholeheartedly cares for him in a way he never truly thought possible.

Mickey isn’t some closet romantic sap, he never thought he’d fall in love and marry, or any of the normal shit someone is supposed to do. Nope, Mickey always assumed he’d knock some hood rat up and be forced to marry her, living the life he already lives but with some chick and kid following him around.

It never dawned on Mickey that he might actually act on his feelings, for men, or somehow find a guy who can accept him for the low life he is. And yet here he is on Ian’s porch, feeling like he wants to run inside and kiss him, tell Ian how much he means to Mickey or be as gay as he wants because he can with Ian.

He can be himself with Gallagher. No worrying about being judged, no worrying about hiding his emotions or acting like he doesn’t care about anything, nothing but being with Ian. And Mickey isn’t sure what that is? Is that what love is? Being able to be yourself, be comfortable with another person?

Because if that’s what love is, well fuck, Mickey’s got it bad.

The front door opens back up and before Mickey can turn around, Ian is next to him, shoulders touching and is holding the pipe out to Mickey, filled.

“You can hit it first,” Ian says, handing it over along with a lighter. “Figure you need it a little more than me.”

Mickey takes the pipe, licking his lips before placing it against them, holding the lighter out above it and flicking on the flame. He breathes in deep and slow, watching the flame suck into the bowl and light the green up, the smoke filling his lungs. He can feel his eyes roll back as he pulls the lighter away, letting the pipe drop from his mouth and holding the smoke in his lungs.

Without thinking, Mickey grabs the back of Ian’s neck and pulls him close, until their mouths are just barely touching and exhales into Ian’s mouth, watching Ian’s eyes flutter, a grin forming across his face as Mickey pulls away.

“Fuck,” Mickey says, biting his lower lip, watching Ian open his mouth as the smoke rises out into the air and fuck is it hot as hell to watch.

“You know,” Ian says, grabbing the pipe and lighting up, breathing in and leaning in, Mickey responding by opening up his mouth and moving closer. “You still get me anyway you want,” he says into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey breathing in the smoke. “For going to school.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey blows the smoke out, feeling his dick already getting hard in his jeans. “What if what I want,” he leans in, resting his hand on Ian’s thigh, right under his dick, “is for you to do anything to me?”

“That still constitutes as having me anyway.” Ian takes his hand and puts it over Mickey’s moving it up just the slightest until Mickey’s hand is on Ian’s cock.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groans out, cupping his hand on Ian’s dick and stroking up and down, listening to Ian’s breathing as he tightens his grip.

“Let’s go up,” Ian begins and then bites down on his knuckle, “to my room. Yeah? Fuck.”

Mickey strokes one more time, deliberately going slow as he does it, watching Ian bite his lower lip, popping up and clearing his throat. Ian stands in front of Mickey, his hard on showing in his jeans and with Mickey sitting on the stairs, well, his mouth is perfectly lined up with Ian’s cock. Mickey stands up, gives Ian a wink and walks to the front door, opening it for Ian and letting him in first.

As soon as Mickey closes the door behind him Ian has him pinned against the door, mouth already on his. Before Mickey can react, Ian takes his arms and puts them under Mickey’s thighs lifting him up into the air, his ass rutting against Ian’s cock as he wraps his legs around Ian’s waist.

“Fuck,” Ian groans, pushing against Mickey, and Mickey is holding onto Ian’s shoulders, grinding down on his cock, feeling it against him.

“Lose the pants,” Mickey says, dropping off of Ian, scrambling to take his pants off. Kicking off his shoes, Mickey drops his baggy pants to his ankles and kicks them off, one leg at a time, watching Ian pull his down, his dick popping out of his boxers.

“Where were we?”

Ian has Mickey pinned up against the door again, lifting him up and now Mickey can feel Ian’s cock against his hole, pushing through his boxer briefs, and it feels fucking amazing. He bounces down on it, his hands reaching down and pulling off Ian’s underwear completely.

Mickey never thought he would pinned up against a door with some guy holding him in the air, cock hard against his ass, but he isn’t complaining. It feels fucking great.

Ian’s hands move from holding onto Mickey’s waist down to the band of his boxer briefs, yanking them down until they can’t go any further, pushing his cock hard against Mickey’s hole. Mickey’s breath is hitched as he grinds down, spitting in his hand and rubbing it on Ian’s cock.

“Fuck,” Mickey says, feeling Ian’s, now slicked up, cock rubbing against him, pushing forward but not going in.

“Condom and lube,” Ian breathes out, pulling back and letting Mickey drop down. Mickey pulls his underwear down and kicks those off too.

“Do you have that?” Mickey’s always used a condom even though he doesn’t have one now, but he’s never used lube. Never thought he’d use it

”Yeah, in my room. Come on.”

Ian runs up the stairs and Mickey follows him, feeling some what strange running through the Gallagher house almost completely naked, and yet not really caring that much. Mickey watches Ian dig through his top drawer as he sits on the bed, still hard.

“Here we go,” Ian says, pulling out a clear bottle filled half way, and Mickey can feel his eyebrows rise in a questioning look, because half a bottle of lube, gone? “Dude,” Ian laughs, “I use it to jerk off with.”

“Oh.” MIckey can feel his face getting hot with embarrassment. “I’ve never used that shit before. Just do it in the shower.”

Ian wiggles his eyebrows and sits down next to Mickey on the bed, still hard just like Mickey. Mickey puts his hand on the nape of Ian’s neck and pulls him closer, gently, pushing their lips together, soft and tenderly.

“You’re sure you want this,” Ian asks, biting Mickey’s bottom lip lightly. “I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Gallagher,” Mickey deadpans, “I want this, okay? I want you.”

“Okay.”

Ian reaches out and pulls at Mickey’s shirt, raising it over Mickey and taking it off, kissing down his neck and biting Mickey’s nipple. Mickey flinches and feels his dick twitch because goddamn did that feel great. Ian kisses down further until he wraps his mouth around Mickey’s cock, and Mickey’s head falls back, feeling Ian close tight around him, moving down slowly.

“Yeah, fuck.” Mickey puts his hand on the back of Ian’s head and pushes him down, feeling Ian’s tongue work around his head. One of Ian’s hands jerks Mickey off and the other is rubbing his balls, moving one finger down until it’s pushing against Mickey’s hole.

Mickey looks down and watches Ian’s mouth over his dick, his cheeks sucking in, flushed. Ian reaches to the bottle lying on the bed and snaps the cap off, pouring a small bit of lube on the tip of his finger, moving it back down against Mickey.

Ian’s finger slicks up Mickey’s hole, the lube is cold and makes him flinch, but as Ian rubs his finger over a few times it warms up. Mickey feels Ian’s finger slide in and he let’s out a groan, feeling Ian move in and out, slowly.

“You good?” Ian asks, no longer sucking Mickey’s dick.

“Yeah, keep going,” Mickey says, lying back on the bed, his ass at the edge.

Mickey can hear the cap on the lube snap open again and then Ian has a second finger against him, pushing in, stretching him out. Mickey closes his eyes and relaxes, feeling Ian’s fingers slide in; he bites his knuckles as Ian starts to move in and out, a little faster this time.

Mickey grabs at his dick and it’s leaking against his stomach. He starts to jerk himself off, feeling Ian inside him, pushing against him and it feels fucking amazing. His dick is getting harder and he knows if he keeps going like this it’s only a matter of time before he comes.

“Fuck me,” Mickey says, stopping himself from jerking off any further. “I want you to fuck me, Ian. Please.”

Ian pulls his fingers out and Mickey wants him back inside because nothing he’s ever felt has made him want to come that badly. Ian tears open the condom and rolls it onto his cock; Mickey can see that he’s leaking as he puts it on. With the bottle of lube, Ian oils up his cock, rubbing up and down before he lies on top of Mickey, cock hard against him.

“Mick.” Ian breathes out, and Mickey nods, because he wants it, needs it.

Ian pushes forward, lying on top of Mickey, their mouths touching. Mickey watches Ian’s eye’s widen as he pushes in, and Mickey pushes his lips against Ian’s letting him inside, feeling Ian’s cock send him over.

“Fuck. Mick,” Ian groans, kissing Mickey as he jerks forward. Mickey digs his hands into Ian’s shoulders. “Yeah. Fuck.”

Mickey grabs at his cock like he needs it, gripping it hard and jerking it fast, wanting to come, wanting to feel Ian inside him as he shoots all over himself. And he does. Mickey can already feel the tension building and he let’s out a low guttural groan as he comes, thick on his stomach.

“Yeah,” Ian says, slowing down, “I’m gonna,” he says as he jerks forward one last time, making Mickey’s eyes roll back.

“I love you,” Mickey says, without even thinking, hearing the words come out before he can register what he just said.

“I love you, too,” Ian says, leaning in and kissing Mickey.

They lie next to each other after, their fingers intertwining and Ian resting his head on Mickey’s chest. Mickey can’t seem to stop smiling, because Ian said it back, Ian loves him. No one ever _loves_ Mickey. Mandy loves him because she has to, because she’s his sister, but no one has ever said that, meant it.

“So, Gallagher,” Mickey says, smirking. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

“Yeah,” Ian says, “it feels good.”

“I bet it does,” Mickey teases, nudging Ian with his arm.

They stay lying on the bed, in each other’s arms and Mickey wants to stay like this forever. In Ian’s arms, comfortable and in love.  
Mickey hears the front door slam open and flails up, grabbing for his clothes but realizing that they’re all downstairs.

“Fuck!” Mickey hisses, “all our clothes are downstairs.”

“Mickey!” Mandy’s voice. What the fuck is Mandy doing here? “Mickey you here!”

“Just a second!” Ian calls out and Mickey socks him in the arm.

“We’re naked.”

Ian laughs and opens up his drawer, tossing Mickey a pair of pants, a shirt and boxers. Mickey changes faster than he ever has in his life, hopping with one leg down the hallway as he pulls the pants up, hearing Mandy starting to walk up the stairs.

Mandy reaches the upstairs just as Mickey and Ian are fully dressed, Mickey bumping into her as he rushes down the hallway.

“Is it true?” Mandy says, cracking her knuckles. “Did that skank bitch really say shit about you?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, feeling his shoulders relax because she doesn’t seem to notice that he’s wearing Ian’s clothes.

“Fucking bitch! Let’s go,” Mandy grabs Mickey’s hand, “you may not be able to hit a girl, but I can.”

“I’m coming,” Ian chimes in, following them down the stairs. “I hate Karen.”

Mickey follows Mandy to the school and she’s cursing the entire time, talking about how she’s going to beat the shit out of Karen for fucking with her brother and that who fucking cares if he’s gay, he can still kill anyone who fucks with him. Mickey smiles and feels good, because he’s surrounded by the two people who actually love him for who he is.

They reach the school and the bell rings for lunch, Mandy timed it perfectly. They walk into the lunch room and Mandy scopes the place out, Mickey watches her as she looks up and down every table for Karen.

“You’re sisters awesome,” Ian whispers.

“I know,” Mickey says.

“There she is,” Mandy says, storming forward. Mickey can see Karen sitting at a table by herself in the corner, probably alone because no one wants to even be close to her. “Hey bitch!” Mandy yells, slamming her hands down on the table. “You really should only open your mouth for cock like you usually do because you fucked up this time. You talked about the wrong person.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “If it isn’t skankovich coming to defend her bitch of a brother.”

Mandy doesn’t even say anything back, instead she lunges over the table, grabbing Karen by the back of her head and slamming her face down on the table; Mickey can hear a loud pop and see blood pool out under her face. Karen pulls back, screeching and holding her nose, blood dripping off her hands.

“What was that bitch?” Mandy snears, hopping over the table. “You fucked,” she slams Karen’s head back down against the table, “with the wrong,” lifting her up and slamming her face down again, “person.”

Karen falls back, her face completely bloody, and Mickey is pretty positive her nose is fucking broken multiple times, because fuck. Mandy slams her face down one last time and walks away, patting Mickey on the shoulder.

“I think she gets the point,” Mandy says. “Any bitch says anything about my brother again!” she yells to everyone watching, “will end up looking worse than this bitch.”

“Holy shit,” Ian says, “that was awesome.”

“You must be Ian,” Mandy says, cracking her knuckles again. “Hurt my brother and the same goes for you.”

“For sure,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel himself smiling, because Ian doesn’t know it, but that is Mandy’s way of accepting him in, and he’s happy she did.

“Come on,” she says, walking past them, “let’s leave before security comes.”

Mickey looks back as they walk out and sees Karen stumbling, holding her bloody nose, and it looks like her whole face is covered in blood. He can see a gash above her eye and laughs because no one is coming to help her, make sure she’s okay. Serves her right.

Everyone knows not to fuck with the Milkoviches.

They all go back to Mickey’s house because Fiona can’t know they ditched. Mickey isn’t really sure how he feels being back at his house because it’s different. Mandy knows about him, his dad’s locked away and his boyfriend, because yeah that’s what Ian is, is hanging out in the living room with him. No worrying. No fear.

“I’m going to go over to Gian’s in a little,” Mandy says, sitting on the couch next to Ian and Mickey. “You good, Mickey?”

“Yeah,” he says, patting Mandy on the knee, “thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m so happy you beat the shit out of her,” Ian chimes in, leaning forward to see over Mickey. “She’s such a bitch. Tried to fuck Frank once. I don’t know why Lip is still with her.”

“Why do guys do anything?” Mandy stands up, stretches and sprawls back down, kicking her legs up on the coffee table. “They only think with their dicks, what do you expect?”

“Lip’s smart though. He should know better.”

“She probably gives good head,” Mickey says, shrugging his shoulders. “Either way, she’s a bitch.”

Mandy grabs the Xbox controller and challenges Ian; Mickey watches as they both slam their fingers down on the buttons, cursing at each other, but laughing too. They’re getting along and Mickey leans back, smiling, not saying a word.

“Suck it!” Ian shouts, slamming the controller down the couch and thrusting his hips in the air. “I annihilated you!”

“You won by like a few points,” Mandy says dryly, “calm down.”

They start to go back and forth, bickering about who’s better, and all Mickey can do is laugh, smile. Being here, with these people, is what his life is now and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

Because this is his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can hit me up on tumblr if you want to at mickeymilkovandamn :)


	9. our spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They head back to the Gallagher's house after ditching school in hopes Fiona won't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited as always! And alas the last chapter!!! Hope you guys enjoy!! :)

Mickey opens up the oven, smelling the pizza rolls and man do they smell good. Ian is sitting on the couch, beating the last level on some shooting game that him and Mandy were playing before she left for Gian’s. Mickey puts the tray on the stove and opens up the top drawer by the sink, fishing through the mess of utensils until he finds the plastic spatula jammed in the back. 

He fills two plates evenly full with pizza rolls, walking into the living room and plopping down on the couch next to Ian, placing the plate on the table, watching Ian as his fingers slam down on the controller, his eyes squinting intently as his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Hey, killer,” Mickey teases, “food.”

“In a minute,” Ian says, standing up and aiming the controller towards the tv, as if that’ll make him win. “I just have one more,” he stops talking to repeatedly tap a button over and over again. Mickey can see the gun on the screen unloading on some giant ass purple like alien, until it falls down on the ground. “I did it! I fucking won!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes, “you beat the game. What a champ.”

“Are you jealous?” Ian sits back down, putting the controller down on the table next to the plates. “That I won the game and you didn’t?”

“As if I give a fuck.”

“I think you do,” Ian says, poking his finger into Mickey’s ribs. “I think you’re a little jealous.”

“Nope,” Mickey says, reaching for the plate and grabbing a pizza roll, putting the whole thing in his mouth with one bite, immediately regretting it. “Fuck! That’s hot.” 

“Like you haven’t had a hot thing in your mouth before,” Ian says, and Mickey chokes trying to swallow, coughing. 

“Fuck, Gallagher!” Mickey coughs, banging his fists on his chest, finally able to swallow. “You’re a dick.”

“Yeah? You love it.”

“I know,” Mickey says, “now eat the meal I made. It’s fucking great.”

Ian reaches over and grabs one from the plate, not breaking eye contact with Mickey. He slowly puts it to his mouth and takes a bite, letting out the loudest moan, licking his lips as he does it.

“Fuck, Mick,” he says, “you were right. I just came.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says, punching Ian in the arm. “Last time I make food for you, asshole.”

“Don’t be like that,” Ian says, putting the rest of the pizza roll in his mouth. “It’s awesome. Thank you.”

Mickey grunts as a response and grabs another, this time making sure to blow on it before shoving it all in his mouth. They sit on the couch, lounging, and eat all the pizza rolls; Ian shuts off the Xbox and tv, sitting back down and resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” Ian says, and Mickey can feel himself start to smile, wrapping his arm around Ian and pulling him in closer.

“I love you, too.” 

They stay like that, in each other’s arms, not talking, just being. One of them leaning in every once in a while to give the other a kiss, Mickey more than Ian, but that’s okay, because he can; he can kiss Ian anytime he wants to and not feel ashamed about it, not feel like he’s going to be bashed for liking a guy. That’s not to say he’s comfortable enough to go run in the streets holding hands and kissing, but he doesn't have this crippling anxiety that he did when they first started off. 

And fuck, everyone knows now, and no one has done anything, said anything to him. Except for that one girl in class, but she was trying to make him see that it’s no big deal, granted he didn’t listen, but now he can see that is really isn’t. That who he chooses to fuck doesn’t define who he is or how he should act. 

It’s a feeling of ease he can’t quite describe, but he loves it. Loves Ian.

Eventually, Ian nudges him and he nods, “what?” 

“School’s out now,” Ian says, sitting up and stretching his arms. “You wanna go back to my place. That way Fiona will think we went.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Fiona’s sitting on the couch when they walk in, drinking a beer. Liam is in the pack n play by the staircase, asleep. It doesn’t look like anyone else is home since there isn’t a shit ton of loud noises coming from all ends of the house.

“How was school?” Fiona asks, muting the tv and turning around, taking a swig of her beer.

“It was good,” Ian says, “lots of learning to be had.”

“That’s good,” she says, and something about the way her tone comes out, along with her glare, makes Mickey think she knows they ditched. “So nothing happened? Like, oh I don’t know, Karen Jackson.”

Fuck.

“Fiona,” Ian begins, but she puts her hand up.

“You know what, it’s better I don’t know,” she sighs, “just go to school, Ian. You too Mickey.”

“I will,” Ian says, kicking Mickey’s shin.

“Me too,” Mickey chimes in.

Ian pushes Mickey and they rush out of the living room before Fiona changes her mind and starts to lecture them. When they get into the kitchen Lip is sitting at the table with a beer in his hand, just like Fiona. 

This can’t be good. 

“Hey,” Ian says, his voice rising in pitch. “What’s up, Lip?”

“I broke up with Karen,” Lip says, swirling the bottle in circles on the table.

“Oh.”

Mickey stays quiet because he isn’t sure what to say, if he should say anything. He doesn’t know if Lip was in love with Karen, or if she really was just there for a good fuck, but he definitely isn’t going to chime in and find out. Breakups are never cut and dry, and if what Mandy did is the reason they broke up, well then it definitely isn’t cut and dry.

“Mickey,” Lip says, and Mickey nods, trying not to show any emotion. “Dude, I’m sorry Karen outed you. That was fucked up.”

“I...um, thanks?” Mickey says, confusion setting in.

“When we walked in that one day and you were,” Lip shudders, “you know? Well, I told her to not tell anyone ‘cause it isn’t her fucking business. And what does she do? Goes and tells the whole fucking school. Point being,” Lip says, gulping down a shit ton of the beer. “Anyone who fucks with Ian is a piece of shit in my book. And you seem good to him. So I wasn’t about to screw around with some bitch who is gonna talk shit about my brother and his,” Lip’s eyebrows furrow, “well, whatever you guys are.”

“Boyfriend,” Mickey says, clearing his throat, watching Ian’s eyes widen and smile spread across his face.

“Yeah, well, boyfriend. She’s not worth any drama.”

“Well,” Mickey says, fumbling for the words to say, “thanks.”

“No problem,” Lip says, raising an eyebrow, “but remember what I said. Anyone who fucks with Ian is a piece of shit. Got it?”

“Got it,” Mickey says, laughing, “trust me. I won’t fuck Ian over.”

“Good.”

“Well,” Ian says, grabbing Mickey by his arm, “this is cool and all, but we’re gonna go upstairs now.” Ian pulls Mickey by his arm up the stairs and when they’re towards the top he leans in and whispers, “you won’t fuck me?” A grin wide across his face.

“Over,” Mickey corrects, grabbing Ian and slamming him against the wall. “I’ll fuck you though,” he says, lips connecting with Ian’s, “anytime.” 

“What about now?” Ian’s hands are on Mickey’s ass, pulling him hard against him. 

“Any,” Mickey says, grabbing Ian’s dick in his pants, “time.”

Next thing Mickey knows he has Ian pinned on the bed; his legs are spread open and wrapped around Mickey’s waist, grinding his ass into him. Mickey yanks off Ian’s shirt and plants his mouth on him, biting and sucking his chest; Ian groans out and unbuttons Mickey’s jeans, reaching in and rubbing his hand over Mickey’s hard on. Jerking forward into Ian’s fists, Mickey kisses up his neck and their lips interlock, tongue working in Ian’s mouth.

“Ian! Mickey!” Fiona’s voice fills the room. “The kids are home! So if you guys would mind not doing whatever it is you’re doing!”

“Fuck,” Mickey hisses, feeling Ian’s hand grip a little tighter around his head, stroking down even slower. “Ian.”

“Come on,” Ian says, biting his lower lip, working his hand a little faster now. “Come for me.”

“Ian.” Mickey’s mouth opens and he can feel himself moving his hips forward into Ian, can feel his breathing hitch as Ian rubs down him, making it impossible to stop. “Your brother and sister,” and his voice catches as Ian moves his other into Mickey’s pants, fingers rubbing against his balls. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Ian’s hand moves further into Mickey’s pants until his finger is running along Mickey’s rim, making him shake under Ian’s touch. 

Ian moves his finger up and down, pushing against Mickey’s hole while his other hand slides down his cock with ease. Mickey can feel the tension building, his toes curling, and his balls tightening up as he comes all on Ian’s hand, in his pants, but he doesn’t care. 

“Gallagher,” he breathes out, pulling back and adjusting his pants, looking down and seeing a wet spot right in his crotch area. “Fuck.”

“Don’t worry,” Ian says, grabbing tissues off the dresser next to his bed and wiping his hand. “You can borrow some jeans.”

“Fiona’s gonna kick me out,” Mickey says, laughing. “I’m a bad influence. You ditch school for me, have sex in the shower with me and waste the water bill, and now you’re jerking me off while the rest of your family is downstairs.”

“Dude,” Ian deadpans, tossing the tissue in the corner of the room. “Trust me, Fiona and Lip have fucked enough people in here while people are home. They have no place to judge.”

“Well just know,” Mickey says, taking off his pants and opening up the middle drawer, “that I still owe you a fuck.” He slips on a clean pair of jeans and wiggles his eyebrows at Ian.

“Yeah you do.” Ian’s tongue flicks across his bottom lip and he adjusts his dick in his jeans. “Let’s go act like I didn’t just make you come all over me.”

Mickey shakes his head, “you’re sick.”

“Only with you.”

When they’re downstairs they sit on the couch and watch tv with the kids; Ian gives quick winks here and there to Mickey and he has to look away because otherwise he’ll start smirking like a fool and the family will know somethings up. Fiona’s in the kitchen and the smell of something good, probably chicken, starts wafting into the living room. Mickey didn’t think he’d be hungry after eating a bunch of pizza rolls earlier and yet, the smell is making his mouth water.

They all sit around the table and eat together, blabbing away about anything that happened in the day. Karen only being brought up once and Ian shutting the conversation down before it can start, which Mickey appreciates. 

“So are you guys together?” Carl asks, stabbing his fork into his food and tearing the chicken apart before eating it.

Ian looks to Mickey who gives him a nod, letting him know it’s okay.

“Yeah,” Ian says, “we are.”

“Have you guys done it?” Mickey’s eyes widen and he’s happy he wasn’t taking a bite as Carl said that because he would have choked. “Does it hurt?”

“Carl!” Fiona exclaims, scrunching up her face and shaking her head. “Jesus.”

“Well,” Carl says, shrugging, “I wanted to know. I mean a dick in the as-”

“That’s enough, Carl.”

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, no more mentioning of gay sex, which is an accomplishment because Mickey can see Carl wanting to ask something everytime he looks over. The fact that he is genuinely just interested in that subject baffles Mickey. If he ever asked something like that in his house he would have been beaten, who know, maybe even killed. 

The Gallaghers are good people. Accepting people.

After dinner they split off to do homework, watch tv, or even knock out early. Fiona switches from night shifts to day shifts and whenever that happens Ian says she knocks out at any chance she can. 

Ian and Mickey go upstairs and lie in bed, both in boxers, wrapped in each other’s arms; Mickey can feel Ian’s heartbeat steady against his chest. 

“So,” Ian says, interlacing his fingers with Mickey’s, “school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Mickey sighs, “great.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I think I owe it to Fiona,” Mickey admits, closing his eyes and listening to Ian’s breathing. “She’s letting me stay here and all.”

“Still,” Ian says, planting a quick kiss on Mickey’s lips, “you don’t have to.”

“I know.” Mickey returns the kiss. 

“Besides,” Ian says, raising his head and resting it on his hand, facing Mickey. “You can always go to the spot if anything happens.”

“The spot,” Mickey says, nodding, “our spot.”

“Exactly,” Ian says, lying back down. “No matter what happens, we’ll always have our spot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So listen, when I first started this fic I didn't know where I was going with it, how long it would be or anything, I just knew I wanted it to end with them together talking about their spot. So hopefully everything that led up to this ending was okay and that the ending was okay and I just always get weirded out with my endings because I never know if they work! So I really hope it did!! Thank you to everyone who read this and left comments! You guys made me want to write a new chapter every week :) my tumblr is still mickeymilkovandamn if anyone wants to talk to me about the fic or anything! :)


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